The Sins of Two Fathers
by Orin Drake
Summary: 1st in the Sins series. 20 years after the end of FFVIII Squall and Seifer have raised a daughter together. Action, violence, mystery, dirty language and FFVII characters! Hooyeah! Completed 71602.
1. Chapter 1

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as is the character Kyrie. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. Angst, I love putting angst everywhere. That's about it for now. I will warn you, though, that FF characters actually don't make up a lot of this story, especially not in the beginning. I will make it up to you all some day. Enjoy.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 1   
by Orin Drake 

She pulled her hair from the ponytail with one hand as she opened the front door with the other. Too hot outside to practice her swordsmanship any longer. She needed a break, a drink, maybe a shower. "Dad?" she called, pulling off her sweat soaked gloves. "Father? Anyone home?"   
"I'm home." Her father called. "Just come into the kitchen when you're done."   
_What an odd order_, she thought. Maybe he was playing with the spices again and had concocted something even more sadistic than his infamous chili. Maybe it was super chili. What a life threatening thought that was. He didn't seem able to decide if he was a sadist or a masochist. Either way, it was good chili.   
She stepped into the kitchen to see him sitting at the far end of the table, holding a cup between his hands, staring at her. Something didn't seem quite right about that. The corners of his mouth kept twitching like he was trying hard not to smile through his stoic mask. Certainly thinking herself safe enough (not that she'd ever done anything to warrant any sort of negative parental behavior... in a while), she pulled out the chair on the other end and sat across from him. "Yes?"   
Seifer let the smile melt into his face. "Guess."   
Oh, the guessing games. She never did guess correctly. Always a riddle and never an ability to solve it. Well, ability she had plenty of. It was patience she lacked. Severely. "We're getting a ruby dragon for a pet?"   
Even his joking eyes held a sense of extreme importance. "Oh, the hell with it." He reached into his lap and pulled up a piece of very expensive looking paper. "You made it into Garden!" he exclaimed proudly, holding up her acceptance letter.   
She was in awe. She? Her? Made it into the academic program in the Garden of her choice? Someone of her relatively short attention span had made it?   
"Are you alright?" her father joked.   
She snapped out of it quickly. "Yes, I think so. Wow." She kept staring at the paper for quite some time, mesmerized. "Does Dad know yet?"   
"He knew before I did." Seifer admitted, relaxing back in the chair while looking the letter over again. "They sent all the paperwork. All you have to do is fill it out and send it back." He glanced at her over the paper as he slid the small pile of forms onto the table and toward her.   
She placed only her fingertips on the documents at first, not entirely believing that they were real. Garden had changed a great deal since her parents were in it. There was the soldier academy, and then the academic studies alone, both branching off into hundreds of divisions. Obviously, getting into the academic program was a lot more difficult. Of course, perhaps having the president of Esthar as her grandfather wasn't such a bad thing. She doubted that such a fact had _everything_ to do with her getting in, but it wouldn't surprise her if Laguna had "suggested" some things. She caught the pen Seifer tossed toward her without so much as looking up, and began to write.   
Smiling, her father got up and walked over to her. She had good instinct. She paid a hell of a lot more attention to it than he ever had. "Which one are you applying to?" he asked over her shoulder.   
"Trabia. So I don't wander too far and cause any nervous breakdowns." She responded, deadpan. "Um... what should I put down as my last name?"   
"You better put Leonhart." Seifer sighed unconsciously.   
She could just _feel_ the guilt as though she'd tapped directly into it from his body. It was thick in the air, and traveling fast. She wanted to write Leonhart-Almasy, but it wouldn't fit in the spaces. Instead, as her father walked away to make coffee, she placed Almasy as her middle name. Kyrie Almasy Leonhart. Not much of a ring, but it would do. None of the students would see her middle name anyway.   
She scribbled away through the seemingly endless questions and demands, seriously considering writing just "yep", "nope", and "plenty". But that probably wouldn't be good on permanent record. A check mark here, a circle there, a personal question to be "forgotten", etc. After a few moments of silence, she suddenly inquired, "Can you write, 'Doesn't play well with others' in the parents or guardian comment space?"   
Seifer chuckled, honestly considering it. "Life would have been so much easier if someone had done that for me."   
She blinked. "That's a no, then..."   
His trademark grin caught her attention. "I think you can handle yourself just fine, Ky."   
She smirked at that, but she was in agreement. Sure she could handle herself, but she didn't really want to _have_ to. As the scent of coffee grew stronger, the forms became somewhat of a blur. They all seemed to be asking the same questions and yet trying to trick her into giving different answers. _Whatever_, she assumed. They probably wouldn't even look.   
At long last, the coveted last page looked her in the eye and asked for her final signature. She wouldn't back down to this blank space. She signed it there just as she had filled it out in the beginning. Kyrie Almasy Leonhart. And a nifty little swirly cross on the last "t", even.   
She placed the pen on the table and stared at the form, just thinking. Whether her last name could truly be Leonhart or Almasy, she could not say. She knew the powers of her past a little too well, and it plagued her. Not the fact that she'd had two fathers. In fact, she rather liked it that way. It prepared her. She was stronger and had far more instinct than most females she knew. It was the insanity that had plagued her parents and their lives, which they passed onto her. They hadn't meant to, but they had done so regardless.   
Her blood mother had been a slight and quickly passing obsession of her dad's. He never talked highly of her, but he must have loved her once. Her mother--certainly not a term of affection--had used her pregnancy to keep Squall with her; there at every beckoned call. Hell, she even used to call him her knight. When they finally decided (rather violently), that it just wasn't going to work out, Squall took his daughter away from her to raise by himself. He said he worried about "that bitch" having her alone, and what she may have grown into.   
In the end, Squall always really loved _Seifer_. Her mother had just been a pressure zone, so to speak, to break tensions and take Squall's mind off of the troubles of the world (and he certainly did deserve some still moments after saving it). It had taken time and pain for her parents to realize a long held and mutual affection, but they'd come around. A few more scars, but nothing too serious. For some reason, Squall was always "Dad", and Seifer was always "Father". It just worked that way. It sounded right. Some of the kids at school had thought it was weird and made fun of them, and her. So she beat the shit out of them. She didn't make any lasting friendships. These days, she just didn't bother trying.   
She picked up the pen and turned it through her fingers, thinking of her family history. If her grandfather _had_ put in a good word for her, she'd certainly have to thank him. Personally, on the way there, preferably. She kind of liked him in an insanely irreverent sort of way. He was so damn different than what she was used to. He talked, a lot. So, so much. So often. About anything. She found that oddly comforting.   
Squall talked a lot more often than he used to, by the things she'd heard. But not usually _with_ her. It was more _to_ her, in short, uneven bursts of dinner conversation. When Seifer had sensed that she was interested in battle and philosophy around the age of 16 or so, he began to open up some _real_ and intelligent lines of communication. Only then would Squall actually talk _with_ her, as though Seifer were opening up some invisible floodgate that Squall alone could never pass through. She supposed it all made for a strange, interesting, and all around rather fucked up childhood. Seifer had told her that Squall was a rather fucked up child himself, though. As if that made her feel better. Every once in a while both parents would surprise her with fantastically humorous exchanges about the past, mostly about girlfriends. But it didn't happen often.   
Come to think of it, Squall _still_ didn't talk _with_ her very often. He seemed to have bursts of fatherly instinct rather than any sort of natural progression. You see, the gunblade was her first love. She didn't have a lot of muscle and couldn't hold either parents' gunblade at arm's length for a long period of time (let alone handle the recoil), but she still loved it and actually grew to be rather good. That's when Squall finally began regarding her as a human being. After 18 fucking years, he'd hugged her once without Seifer having to initiate the reaction. Not that she was bitter. At least, not much. It just didn't feel quite... normal. Then, she'd never felt quite normal. It must have had to do with her mother of long since past being "a little bothered" that she'd been born with red eyes. Not the brown of Rinoa's, not the blue of Squall's, but red. Red eyes that were truly crimson were relatively rare in the world. They remained so for her life without fading, like some sort of religious mark.   
Thinking of her mother's instant disapproval somewhat suddenly brought her to another thought. All in all, she had very little female interaction in her life. There was Aunt Quistis, but she wasn't able to leave her duties at Trabia Garden much. She was always busy with this and that, paperwork and SeeD training and ships; the list went on. It was nice to sit and have an actual meal with her though. "You remind me so much of Squall..." she'd say, then giggle. Maybe, Kyrie thought, it was because she didn't talk much. She didn't have a lot of room for conversation. She was carrying some pretty heavy baggage; the sins of two fathers. Quistis was pretty good at getting her to talk, though.   
Then there was Aunt Ellone. Elle was the one to instruct her in "feminine matters". Even these days, she was never too busy to lend an ear regardless of how much work she was doing in Esthar. But she was so... feminine. So very "what's wrong honey?" and "do you want to talk over tea and cookies?" She was nice. She was very, very nice. But she was just... too feminine to allow Kyrie to talk freely. Quistis had a much wider and more colorful curse vocabulary. And was never afraid to use it. Elle's birds and bees speech was pretty long and involved. Quistis' was, "Don't have sex or your parents will kill you both."   
And then her thoughts made a sharp and nearly unwelcome turn back to Squall. Must have been the sound of Seifer pouring his coffee. Squall was a major coffee drinker with the belief that caffeine got things done. Especially coffee. She waited until her father had settled back at his place on the opposite end of the table before she spoke up. "Why is Dad acting so... distantly appreciative?" she tried to phrase her question to make it make sense even to herself. She didn't know how to express what she'd been pondering.   
"Soft in his old age." Seifer half smiled, tapping his fingernails lightly against the side of his coffee cup.   
She was silent for a long time. What she was thinking was hidden from even herself, until words fell from her mouth that she hadn't planned. "You two fucked me up, you know."   
Seifer blinked. He certainly hadn't expected that. While there was no accusation in her voice, he felt cornered. "Come again?"   
Even she was surprised by those words. She hadn't meant to act like such a bitch. Just to get some information. "Uh... nothing."   
Seifer showed her one of his patented glares for a fraction of a second. They were never cruel, per se, but they took you down a peg or two sometimes.   
She sighed. She didn't want to explain this, not now. In a low murmur she added, "Sorry, Father."   
At that, he grinned. He knew better. "No you aren't. Now tell me."   
She took a moment to stare at him, judging him like a good fighter would before a battle. There was instinct (i.e.. to lie), and then there was the overwhelming need to express to him that she just wished Dad wasn't such an asshole all the time. Which one? "You know..." she started slowly, "You two were never fit for kids."   
Her father laughed so hard he had to push himself away from the table to prevent spilling hot coffee everywhere. "I am aware." He chuckled. "It's because we never really had parents."   
She was still quite serious through all of this, her chin in her hand, elbow on the table. "I love you guys, you know that. But I still feel like the goat sent into the desert with all your sins on his head."   
A worried expression passed over Seifer's face. "Oh." Her honesty was so blatant that it stung. "It's a little late in your development to be bringing this up, isn't it?"   
_Yeah, Father, that makes me feel better._ She sighed through bared teeth.   
Seifer seemed to realize what he'd just said and how it had sounded. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean that. Once an asshole, always an asshole."   
She felt rather fed up at that point with conflicting emotions. "Yeah, no kidding."   
He just plain did not know how to respond. His daughter was showing quite a few unwelcome signs of himself. Ones that he had never planned to pass on to her. "Was it that bad, childhood?"   
She covered her face with her hands for a moment, just breathing. As she slowly pulled her fingers away, she shook her head. "No. It wasn't. It was good. Holidays, birthdays... it was all good. But it was... cold." She sighed, breaking the conversation. She couldn't take this. She'd just been a complete prick to her father for no good reason. She got up to swallow all of her previous conversation and leave; to walk and clear her head.   
Seifer got up quickly and put a heavy hand on her shoulder, turning her around. She would be leaving them soon. Very soon, to make her way out in that huge, unsafe world. He didn't want to send her off with anger and ill feelings. "Look, why don't I get Squall and we can... talk about this?" After all of these years, Seifer still wasn't exactly the "talking type". More so than Squall, yes, but not much.   
Hell, the last time she'd witnessed a conversation between the two of them... she realized that she couldn't remember when that was. Months ago, maybe. "No, Father. It's okay, really. I'm just... tired."   
His voice was stern. "You always use that excuse."   
He caught her that time. Giving in, she stated simply, "I think Dad's as comfortable around me as he is with Laguna. And... that's fine."   
A very sad, guilty expression removed the stern one in her father's eyes. But she couldn't take looking at him like that. She was completely ashamed of herself. Of what she'd said, why she'd said it, of everything. She gently lifted his hand from her shoulder and walked out to take a stroll in the woods.   
It was another thing she'd inherited from them both. Running away. It was so much easier than... anything else. Peace was always the opposite direction of conflict, right? Somehow she just didn't feel that way when she was walking. It felt more like she was pounding the shards of memories that weren't even her own deeper into her flesh. Truly, she didn't blame them for anything. They'd had hard lives, and had fought to protect the whole goddamn world. Not many people could say that. It was okay to have some deep seeded emotions, memories, demons. But she did kind of wish that they weren't passed on to her.   
She sighed deeply, snapping a dead branch off of a tree as she passed. She didn't _really_ think Squall was an asshole. Not at heart. But he acted like one sometimes. He never meant to, that much was clear, but sometimes it built up inside of her. She never brought it up because the last thing she ever wanted to do was cause guilt or pain for either of them. But now, it was out there. Not just out there, but directed toward the wrong person. It just felt awful. 

Seifer sighed deeply, seeing her go. He wondered why it was she thought _Squall_ was the asshole. Squall had always been the hero. The golden god. It was _he_ that had been the asshole. The Sorceress' Knight. The plague unleashed upon the world to be hated, feared, and left behind. He'd bonded more with Kyrie than Squall had, but that was because he was around more often. Now that Squall's job consisted of mostly half days and three day weekends attending to relatively boring and easily decided Garden matters, he'd had the _chance_ to bond with her a little. It didn't really seem like that's what was happening, though. They only seemed to murmur hellos in the hallways more often now. 

Kyrie walked into her little grove, where the very end trickle of a stream died off into the ground. It was her safe spot. Her hidden place. While her parents knew where it was, they never did disturb her there. She was very thankful for that.   
Water, trees, stones; they had a way about them, didn't they? The sounds, the smells, the glistening of a dying trickle of water over rounded stones and wildflowers... it just had a way of calming. No problems would disappear or become spontaneously solved, of course, but it was okay to just let it all go for a while.   
She murmured a curse as she realized she'd forgotten her sword. Her little place was the perfect small but open area for practice. She didn't exactly feel like playing with a sword, anyway. She just lay back against a stump she remembered playing with stuffed animals and toy soldiers on, and closed her eyes. Bliss in the darkness while the crows cawed and the sparrows sang. All thought tended to just pour away with the water. All was... bliss...   
Until one of the crows must have mistook her collar for a coin and nearly landed on her head. Bliss tends to fade after a bird attack. Woken from her pleasurable stupor of nothingness, she squinted and took note she'd been gone a little over an hour. Unless the sun was moving a little fast. Which she assumed, for obvious reasons, that it was not.   
Back home, then. She'd have to go back. They'd probably want her to tell everyone herself that she made it into Garden. Then make plans to visit Laguna on her way out, which was really her own idea. And most importantly, they'd worry. There was no doubt Squall was home by now. She did _not_ want to cause either of them extra concern. A little late on the draw, yes, but she could still make up for it.   
Walking back toward the house, she saw Squall standing by the door, still in his casual work clothes. His "uniform"; plain black pants, plain white dress shirt. No tie. Never a tie. He _hated_ ties as much as she hated dresses. This would not be fun, she knew. He had that look about him, one she'd seen every so often when she'd said something that had been building up inside. Not disappointment, and not shame, but sort of kindred of each and a little bit more that she couldn't place. Whatever. With a deep breath, she walked through the trees as naturally as she could manage.   
"Hey Kyrie." Squall greeted without having to look up.   
It was funny. On his lips, her name was always so... strange. Like he spoke a different language than everyone else. It felt as though he had a tie to her that was at once unbroken and yet never actually fully structured in the first place. That word, her name, felt out of reach on his breath. This time, in particular. It was clear he and Seifer had talked. More so clear was that he seemed quite unsure about talking to her at all. "Hey Dad."   
Uncomfortable silences had passed between them every so often, but it was rare. It was more often a tolerable silence. This one was short, but deathly. Slowly, he put his hand in his pocket and brought something long and silver from it.   
What he held out for her absolutely shocked her out of her being. Griever. His necklace. The only possession he'd kept from his childhood. It seemed to hold an almost religious significance to him. He never took it off except to shower, and even then it was entombed in a small, locked wooden box in their room. It seemed like it may well have been his most treasured artifact of all.   
She shook her head, feeling she absolutely must decline. She couldn't accept something so... heartfelt from him.. "Dad... I can't take this..."   
Squall smiled. An expression that both made him look 20 years younger, and was absolutely unnatural. She never did remember seeing him smile. Not like that. "Take it. Honestly."   
She hadn't the chance to decline again when he swept his hands around her neck and fastened Griever around it. The chain was huge on her, the pendant hanging just above the crotch of her jeans. She looked down at it, at how surprisingly natural it seemed to look down on it there, then looked up in a mixture of terror and confusion. "Are you dying, Dad?"   
Squall smirked gently. "Seifer told me... about earlier." He blushed just slightly, as though a number of different thoughts had passed through his mind, none of them funny. An almost embarrassed sincerity made itself painfully clear in his voice. "I hope you'll visit often. So we can have something to talk about."   
"I didn't mean--" she began, not wanting him to feel badly about anything she'd said. It's just that it had been building up for so long...   
He silenced her with a hug. Not a stiff, uncomfortable one like usual. An embrace. A father-daughter good-bye embrace. No, it was not completely natural, but it was closer than any he'd ever given. More heartfelt. It was so weird. But so goddamn welcome that she didn't dare address the weirdness.   
"I'm not leaving until tomorrow, Dad..." she whispered, not letting the hug break. The feeling of being held was just... so nice. Especially by him. By her fricken' dad who almost never showed affection in the "usual ways".   
"I know." He said, squeezing tightly before slowly letting her go. He instead held her at arm's length, just looking at her. Where had the years gone? Why did he waste them wallowing in his own past when he should have been enjoying bringing up his own child? Seifer had had far more joy with her than her own blood father had been able to. She was a lovely young lady now, with strength and qualities that he'd never seen in Rinoa. What more could he ask for?   
"You're getting weird, Dad." She murmured softly, trying to hold her emotions in. In truth, she was elated that he knew she was alive. But there was an element of fear in that. Fear almost that she'd scare him off and turn him cold again.   
He smiled once more, unable to hold it back. "Yeah. Must be getting old."   
"Ancient." She agreed, just glad to talk with him.   
A sudden flicker of understanding overtook her intelligent eyes, and her mouth moved before her mind could shut it up. "You just never wanted a _daughter_, did you?"   
Squall paused, shocked. Sometimes Kyrie had these bursts of insight, these times when the whole universe seemed within her hand for just an instant. Sometimes she could see right through his soul. In such times, he could only answer with honesty. "No, I didn't. But I didn't want... _anything_." He didn't want her to take that as saying he didn't want _her_, but he expected she knew that well enough. She was never oblivious to subtlety. It had been the subtle guilt and memories that had really torn through her. Her dad, the hero. Her father, the villain. And a world in between. 


	2. Chapter 2

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as is the character Kyrie. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie is mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. Angst, I love putting angst everywhere. That's about it for now. I will warn you, though, that FF characters actually don't make up a lot of this story, especially not in the beginning. I will make it up to you all some day. Enjoy.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 2   
by Orin Drake 

"So..." Seifer began, slicing meat for dinner. "Are you going to spread the news?"   
Kyrie had been staring off into space for quite a while. It was an understatement to say that she still couldn't quite believe she'd made it into Garden, thinking it pretty obvious that their standards had dropped since her parents had been involved. "I suppose I might as well."   
Her father glanced at her with a puzzled expression. "Aren't you excited?"   
"Sure." She admitted in monotone. "Just... shocked."   
Seifer made a small amused noise. "Shock" may not have been the word for it. "Floored" was probably closer to the truth. He knew she'd sent the papers off incredibly nonchalantly, though it were just another daily function. And, though he wouldn't admit it, he sort of knew how she felt. He never thought he'd have a chance in Garden. But of course, he never did get to be a SeeD. There was little regret of that, though, looking back.   
"You'd better make a call to your grandfather soon." Seifer suggested.   
Kyrie nodded, still quite stuck in a world all her own. It was a haze of shock, really. But it wasn't so unpleasant. "I'll do that now." She responded at last, getting up and walking zombie-like through the hallway and up the stairs.   
Seifer chuckled as quietly as he could. He was happy for her. And he was sure she was just as happy for herself. But he did wonder how long it would take to kick in.   


She walked into her room and gently shut the door. Not that she was concerned anyone would be listening, really; she'd always had plenty of privacy. It's just what you did as a female in a house of males, you close your door when you're in your room. She sat heavily at her desk and picked up the phone receiver. It hung there in her hand, chanting an annoying echo that signaled the line was free. Somehow she wasn't quite ready to hear her grandfather's perky questions. But then, he was probably busy at this time of day. She glanced over at the clock to be sure.   
_Well, it's now or never._ She put the phone to her ear and dialed the extensively long number to bypass all other secretaries and assistants, directly into the President of Esthar's office.   
After about five rings, a very tired, "Yeah?" answered the phone.   
There was no doubt who that voice belonged to. "Kiros? Kyrie."   
"Oh. Hello, Kyrie." He greeted warmly. "Do you want your grandfather?"   
"Actually, I have to make this kinda quick..."   
He snickered. "Okay, then. What can I do for you?"   
She looked at the clock and calculated her arrival time. "Does he have any appointments for Wednesday morning? Roughly around six thirty?"   
There were flutterings of paper on the other end as he searched. "Nope. Will you be visiting?"   
"Just stopping by on my way to Trabia Garden."   
"Congratulations!"   
She lowered her voice, curiosity getting the best of her. "Between you and me, did he... say anything?"   
"Heh. Every day for two weeks."   
She honestly could not help but smile. "Good to know. How's everything with you and Ward and, well, everything else?"   
"Oh, everything is fine, here. We're..." his voice dropped slightly, staring at all of the paperwork in front of him, "Kept busy."   
"So I would assume." She joked. "Well, just tell everyone hello for me."   
"Will do." Kiros chimed. "See you then."   
"See you." Kyrie responded before lightly dropping the receiver.   
Well, that wasn't so bad. She didn't even have to communicate with Laguna. Not that she minded it, but he was much easier for her to take in person. Where visuals could distract you from the endless stream of chatter.   
She sat back and twirled her chair around with a heavy sigh, staring at her room. It'd be the first time she ever really left it. Not that she really had all that much to fill it with in the first place, but she wondered how empty it would be without her. Just a dresser, some pictures, some books. She'd have to take her most important possessions, of course.   
She wondered, then, just how her parents would get along without her there. Probably a little better, she imagined. Not that she ever felt like a burden, but it seemed that way at times. Of course, she _would_ have to leave right as Squall was actually making the attempt to talk to her; to know and treat her as a daughter. That's how it seemed to go, though. It was no big deal. She'd be back. She was close enough to visit often.   
Old pictures of old friends and Balamb Garden were everywhere in the house. Faded memories of the happy times that used to be among friends. She closed her eyes and imagined them rather than searching for them; somehow she knew Trabia was going to be very different. That may not be a bad thing, but she'd hate to get lost the first day. Quistis would be there if she needed directions, though. And maybe, if she was really lucky, special treatment. She didn't really count on it, but it sure would be nice.   
A soft knock on the door brought her out of her colorful imaginings; getting lost for several months in long, dark Garden hallways. "Come in."   
Seifer stuck his head in the door. "Busy?"   
"Not at the moment." Kyrie sensed something... "amiss".   
"Would you care to join us in the living room, then?" her father asked just as sickeningly sweet as anyone who _really_ wanted something.   
His daughter daintily raised an eyebrow. "Oooookay."   
"Excellent." Seifer flashed his teeth and took off down the stairs without her.   
"Oh boy." She commented to herself, getting up. Maybe there were second thoughts on getting a ruby dragon for a pet. She crossed her fingers. _Anything but a "family meeting"..._ As she came to the bottom of the stairs, she spotted her parents looking very... devious.   
"Come here, Ky." Seifer suggested, too innocently.   
_Riiiiiiiight..._ she flashed him a small smirk before doing as he asked. She'd no idea what the hell could possibly be going on, but it was clear it had been planned. That wasn't always a good thing.   
"I know of course that you're only going into the academic program..." Seifer began innocently enough, "But of course there are still monsters, and it is still important to have arms with you." He paused just long enough to allow Squall to walk up beside him with his hands behind his back.   
Interesting words. Should she be excited or nervous, she wondered. Run for it, maybe? She looked from one set of blue eyes to the other, seeing mischievous smiles playing in them. Something very important, it seemed, had been planned. Interesting.   
"And we know how much you appreciate our gunblades." Seifer continued, smiling. "But we thought it might be a little better if we had one custom made for you."   
A lead weight seemed to bounce back and forth in her stomach. Had she heard what she thought she heard? A gunblade of her own? Custom made? She saw Squall's smile widen as he brought the thing he'd hidden behind his back out into her view, held out to her in both hands.   
A gunblade. It was a gunblade. A bit smaller and shorter than either of her parents', but just as finely crafted. It was a combination of theirs, with the wide base of Squall's blade and the morbidly fascinating hook just beyond the trigger of Seifer's; but it was uniquely it's own weapon. Several thin triangles were sliced out of the inside of the blade itself to reduce the weight and resistance, making it look more like a piece of modern art than a weapon. On the side of blade right below the barrel was etched a likeness of Griever over the background of the Bloodcross.   
Silence. Only a moment of it, but it was probably the longest she'd ever thought she'd experienced. "It... god, it's... so beautiful..."   
"It won't shatter." Squall mused softly.   
_It might if I touch it..._ she thought, but said nothing. Instead, she took a deep breath and lightly reached toward the weapon. It _was_ beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. And so... perfectly _hers_. She grasped the hilt and gently lifted it from her dad's hands. It was remarkably heavy, but in a good way; not so heavy she _needed_ to use both hands. Just heavy enough to keep her muscles toned, and give her plenty of momentum when she needed it. As though no one else were in the room, she pointed it to the floor and thumbed the hammer softly. Precision. The smell of machine oil wafted through the air. Grasping the cylinder, she carefully pushed and popped it aside in loading position. Again, she discovered only absolute, oiled perfection. It felt so goddamn good. It smelled of new steel, clean oil, wood and leather.   
"Satisfied?" Seifer questioned, amused.   
Kyrie at last realized that she was not alone and snapped the cylinder back in. "Much more than that." She admitted triumphantly. "How..?"   
Her father watched what a natural she seemed to be with the thing already. "We managed to find the kid of the guy that made ours."   
"And he managed to find his father's partner and make this for us." Squall finished, an air of pride in his voice. It was no small task to have hunted them down.   
Now, Kyrie was officially floored. She was very close to emotional, even. Close. Transplanting her gunblade to her left hand, she wrapped her free arm around Squall without thinking. "Thank you, Dad."   
He seemed a little surprised at the sudden "overflow of emotion", himself. But he hugged her back, enjoying the incredibly natural touch. "You're welcome, Kyrie."   
Seifer pretended to pout. "Hey, I helped, too."   
Kyrie grinned and transferred her hug to him. "Thank you, too, Father."   
"That's more like it." He lightly ran his hand through her hair and "fluffed" it. "We got you a nice leather scabbard and everything."   
Squall took his cue, walking to the living room closet and getting out a long box. He yanked the top off and gently sifted through a few crinkling layers of packing paper before pulling out the black leather scabbard. "I hope this fits. It's non-refundable."   
"Warms my heart." Kyrie muttered, graciously taking the scabbard and commencing it's trial run. The body was soft and flexible, but quite thick and certainly strong enough to support the blade. Three belts stuck out of it's side to attach to her thigh, and one more at the top end in case she wanted a fourth belt around her waist for extra support. She was glad to see that not only did they fit snugly, but there was plenty of room back and forth. You know, in case she chose to get fat or starve herself. She slipped her gunblade in with absolute ease, snapping the security strap in place over the hilt. "Have you been measuring me in my sleep?" she joked, taking a trial walk around them in a circle. It felt a little weird, yes, but not uncomfortable. A tightness and weight that felt very natural, actually.   
"Hmm. That would have been a good idea..." Seifer trailed off. "Well, we did a good job." He grinned at Squall and kissed him softly on the lips.   
Squall returned the affectionate peck. "Yes, I think we did."   
Another mischievous look crossed Seifer's face. Without a single indication of what was to come, he walked up to Kyrie and simply threw her over his shoulder. It was something playful that he hadn't done since she was 10. And it showed quickly. "You're a lot heavier than you used to be..."   
"It's all muscle." She quipped. "Muscle and gunblade."   
"I don't think so..." he jokingly poked lightly at her side. "Wait--I feel scrawny ribs."   
"Ow." She giggled. She couldn't help herself. It was a moment like none she'd experienced in such a long damn time. She lost herself to the bliss of it. The bliss of being the daughter, under the care of her parents. That's all it was.   


They'd taken her outside to practice with her new weapon before seeing her off. It was relatively important she learned how to draw quickly, let alone use the thing. _Bullets, bullets!_ she thought, but wound up not having to say a thing.   
Squall stepped outside with a small, dark red box in his hands. "I think we have some spare bullets for a little shooting before you go..."   
_Ah, bullets._ Kyrie held her breath as she watched the box open. "You'd better. I'd hate to find out I have a crooked sight at the wrong moment."   
Seifer laughed. "Irvine did that once. Remember?"   
Squall grinned in spite of himself. "It sure as hell wasn't funny at the time."   
The blonde threw his hands up in the air and exclaimed, "Not a hell of a lot was!"   
The brunette chuckled. "True." He picked through the box and handed six shining silver bullets to his daughter.   
She took them into her outstretched palm, nearly sighing with the cold metal finally in her hand. Lovely. Her first actual shoot without one of her parents holding her up so she wouldn't fly from the recoil. At least, she hoped so. To feel the jerk of her shoulder all on her own two feet... Mechanically, she popped the cylinder out and loaded slowly, one by one. Each one was a silent prayer; _I hope I survive this... I hope I survive this..._   
Snap, clink. She was ready to rock and roll. _Give me something to shoot at..._   
Her parents grinned knowingly at one another. She was a natural. Seifer put his hand on her shoulder to show support. "Just make sure you aim for the woods, that's all."   
"Shouldn't I have something... specific to aim for?" Kyrie could hardly contain her excitement.   
"Let's see how you handle recoil first." Her father suggested.   
_Oh, damn._ She thought. She wanted to shoot something, dammit. But it would be nice to know how much power this baby had. And, hopefully, she could handle it. Sensing her parents moving a step back, she lifted the blade and aimed for nowhere in particular; just into the woods. Both hands first, until she knew. Both hands locked, her eyes were level, her breath was still. She squeezed smoothly.   
Recoil was, in fact... delicious. Perfect. Harsh, yes, especially for her small frame. But it was enough to _feel_ the weapon. The crack of the gunpowder and the instant smoke that tore just for a moment at her sinuses added the the effect; she _knew_ this was a killer. But she also knew it was safe in her hands. Something secret, something sweet, had just been exchanged between weapon and master. She was set for life and she knew it.   
Dropping her left hand, she took another breath and squeezed again. It did hurt just a bit, in a jarring sort of pain that ran up the length of her arm. It was really impossible to explain; but it wasn't bad pain. The jarring wasn't a permanent thing, she was sure. Only until her muscles could effectively evolve to her purpose.   
With another long, delicate breath, she lowered the blade to the ground and paused to take it all in. She could handle the recoil, alright. Now it was time for... "Target?"   
Her parents exchanged a glance. She had a genuine lust for her weapon, alright. A love they both knew quite well. And it was a sense of pride that filled them to the brink of some sort of emotional overflow. Wordlessly, Squall disappeared into the house for a moment, gathering a number of cans and bottles. To hell with the food and drink they wasted now. To hell with having to shop for twice as much next week. Their daughter was becoming a marksman true to their heart.   
The silence continued as he carefully placed the targets; some on the ground, some on stumps and logs, others on rocks. There was a good variety to choose from. Kyrie watched with harsh concentration on her face. Her aim usually failed before because she couldn't hold the other gunblades long enough to really trace anything. This time, it was all hers, she was sure. She waited until her dad walked well out of range behind her, then lifted the blade again. Eye along the edge. Bottle in sight. Squeeze.   
_Zing!_ Miss. Off just slightly above and to the right. She surprised herself by instantly adjusting for her mistake. Another squeeze, and the bottle gushed in a flurry of shards. Not a dead-on center hit, but damn close. She could learn this quickly.   
Another breath and she had already squeezed again. She hit the can on the highest stump, but only in the lower left corner. Overcompensation. She'd have to look out for that. Pausing to clear her thoughts and learn from her mistakes, she aimed one more time for another can on the ground. It splattered to almost a dead-on hit. Close counts in battle. But she still wasn't completely satisfied.   
Empty of rounds and unwilling to waste more, she lowered the blade again and let her muscles relax. That was still damn good. She looked at her hits and misses, already working out the lessons in her mind. She was glad all Gardens retained their training rooms. She was going to need a lot of time there.   
"That was fucking great, Ky." Seifer's even voice was one of pride and, she thought, maybe a little surprise. Hell, she'd shocked the hell out of herself, too. It just hadn't sunken in yet.   
"Why thank you." She responded tonelessly. Had she really done that? Wow. "And now I get to clean it up, right?"   
Squall stepped forward, staring at her accomplishment. He hadn't picked it up that fast. But then, he didn't have parents who were experts, either. "I think we can take care of that."   
His daughter glanced at him, coming out of her trance just a little. She was still amazed, but a mild form of acceptance was settling comfortably. She was getting too hungry to do battle with mental inadequacies. "Where do I buy bullets?"   
"Trabia and Esthar both have good weapon shops." Squall responded, seeing the confident pose Kyrie was still striking. Apparently they'd all been blown out of the water somewhat.   
"It's just a regular, run of the mill rifle shot." Seifer added, staring to pick up the remnants of the food left untouched. "Pretty versatile."   


Kyrie sat between her parents on the couch, looking at but not paying attention to the television. How she'd been tricked into such an arrangement was beyond her. She hadn't sat in the same chair with her parents for years, let alone between them. They must have taken advantage of her full stomach right after dinner. That and her continuing astonishment; did she really shoot that well? It wasn't perfect, no, but it would do. She didn't mind honing a skill she would certainly use. It wasn't like... algebra.   
Weird. Just weird. By that time the next day, she'd be in Garden. She may not even have access to a television. What a horrible thought.   
Strange though it felt, it was kind of nice to just... sit and stare at the moving box. News was the only thing on at the time, but even that wasn't so bad. Not a lot had been happening in the world the past couple of days. The newscasters were so desperate for stories that everything was a human interest story followed every 10 minutes by weather. Sure "We're doin' fine" and "The weather is the same as it was 10 minutes ago" didn't make much of a news program, but... come on.   
News was followed by some not so entertaining sitcom. But it was funny, at least. Especially in all the places it really didn't need to be. It was just pure cheese. With bad acting on top of that. But that was good watching when you just want to zone out from reality for a little while.   
"How do you think they're gonna make up this time?" Seifer pretended to be very interested.   
"I bet they'll kiss!" Kyrie whispered, as though it were some big secret.   
"Maybe some make-up sex." Squall suggested with a chortle.   
When it came time for cop dramas, the three of them cheered on the criminals with abandon. "Blow his brains out!" Kyrie suggested.   
Seifer laughed. "I'm so glad you know the difference between TV and 'real life'."   
His daughter looked at him, acting bewildered. "Real what, now?"   
A whole hour spent on a criminal who could have easily been taken down with a bullet. But no, no, they "didn't want to play that way". It was another sappy ending that caused them all to moan with disdain. Cheap "the ending is so sickeningly sweet and good that the violence is excusable" ending.   
"It's getting late, Ky." Seifer begrudgingly announced during the credits. "And you have a long day ahead of you."   
She felt a little bit surprised. Sure she ought to get some sleep if she was going to leave... really early in the morning. But she hadn't really thought of that beforehand, was all. "Yeah, I guess so." She relented.   


She sat there in the dim light, staring at her weapon. _Her gunblade_. What an amazing thought. She never thought she'd get one of her own. And it was so beautiful. So perfect. A delicate savageness carved into it. She had no name for it yet, but she had a feeling that would change. She'd give it the first name that really chimed. It could wait for a name as long as she kept holding it once in a while.   
_What a funny thought to have_, she mused. But it wasn't so crazy. Just a few short years ago when magic had been a large part of the world, the weapon and it's master were bonded in a thousand ways she probably couldn't imagine. Maybe she retained some of that, thanks to Squall. Maybe even thanks to her mother; though she hesitated to thank her mother for anything.   
She glanced up at the clock, sliding her new weapon into its sheath. Getting late, of course. And still she hadn't gotten a bit of sleep. She felt she operated a little better on a slight lack of rest, actually. It just seemed to make things easier when you didn't _quite_ know what was going on. It also seemed to boost the adrenaline when you needed it most; although she still had to experiment with that to make sure it wasn't a one-time thing. So it was clear that she had better get herself to sleep.   
On a whim, she placed the gunblade next to her under the covers. It wasn't so crazy. 


	3. Chapter 3

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. Angst, I love putting angst everywhere. That's about it for now. I will warn you, though, that FF characters actually don't make up a lot of this story, especially not in the beginning. I will make it up to you all some day. Enjoy.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 3   
by Orin Drake 

She woke to the smell of frying bacon at the very beginning rays of morning. _So this is where it all goes wrong_, she thought with a wide stretch.   
Tossing her feet out of the bed, the rest of her body almost followed until she straightened her back to sit up. This was it. This was the day. And by the look of the sad bit of light that came in the window, it was damn early. Too damn early for anything to be awake. She needed to catch two trains, though. Sleep was a small sacrifice.   
A glance at the clock made her realize she could technically sleep another hour. No one had come to wake her up, after all. But, she _was_ up. And it was probably best not to try and rush out of the place. Her parents may not appreciate that.   
Another stretch and she was standing. With a half-awake marched step, she walked to her closet and rolled the door open. And just what was appropriate to wear? Hell, she hadn't even packed yet; this last realization made her cringe a little. Not that she would need much, anyway. Her parents lived so close, and they could always just mail stuff to her. The mere act of forgetting to pack, of all things, just gave her a bit more annoyance than she hoped to have this morning.   
_Screw it._ She thought. _I'll pack after breakfast._ She grasped hold of her newest, darkest black jeans and pulled them on, glad Garden regulations were still quite lenient on attire. She had no idea what she'd do if she had to wear anything other than jeans. What a nightmare.   
Now, as for a shirt... she scanned the closet, seeking something both appropriate and... not _too_ appropriate. Running her hands along the sides of her hanging clothes, she found something suitable almost instantly by touch alone. It was an old shirt, but it fit quite well; sort of a frosted, silky fabric in incredible cobalt blue, with three little sapphire-ish buttons down the front. Long sleeved and collared, but far from too terribly fancy. It gave her just enough form to be well in the range of appropriately dressed.   
Using the full-length mirror on the inner door, she took stock of herself. Not so bad, really. Black and blue clothes, brown hair, and red eyes; she was a walking bruise. And hanging there, more or less just below her belt, was Griever. Not the most flattering location, perhaps, but there was no way she was getting the chain shortened. It just wasn't right.   
Securing her gunblade to her leg (as you never know what dangers await you at the kitchen table), she walked to the bathroom and splashed her face a little. No sense in feeling lethargic until she was in class, was there? Getting a satisfactory response to the cold water, she dried off and walked downstairs.   
"Hey, now. You don't want to look too good your first day, do you?" Seifer joked from the stove.   
Kyrie threw her head forward and "mussed" her hair with her fingers, then snapped it back up. "Better?" she offered.   
That was how Squall drove him wild. But he decided to keep his mouth shut about that in front of his daughter. "Come to think of it... no. I suppose it isn't." He glanced up to greet the said wild-driver, having walked in behind her. As Squall passed Kyrie, he placed a hand on her shoulder.   
She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring that unforced touch. It felt so... _natural_. She'd never tire of that. It lasted only a moment, just a supportive touch before passing, but it was incredibly special. This was the morning. This was the day. She ran her hands through her hair and tried to feel hungry.   
Breakfast almost felt a little... forced. The breakfast itself--bacon, eggs, toast, hash browns and orange juice--was utterly spectacular, and Kyrie said as much several times through it. "Sure, now that I'm going away, it's time for a proper breakfast." She joked as well, gaining a response of only a dull glance between her parents. It wasn't so much uncomfortable as it was... different. A difference they seemed to be preparing themselves for. As though her departure would force them to take on completely separate lives altogether.   
There was a momentary silence after their meal, of which Kyrie was truly starting to get concerned about. It wasn't like she was going away for good. But... admittedly, it was different. Things were changing. But she sure as hell wasn't about to dwell on that. "I... still have to pack." She announced, almost sheepishly.   
Seifer grinned. "Weren't so prepared, huh?"   
Squall seemed not to have heard him. "I've got some special Garden tags to put on your suitcases before you get to the station. They like to run all their baggage on a separate train."   
_Oh, lovely._ His daughter thought. "I hope this doesn't mean I wind up without luggage at the end of the line." She'd traveled by train with her parents enough to know you didn't always get your bags at the most appropriate times.   
Seifer dismissed the thought with a motion of his hand as he rose to clear the plates. "They've gotten a lot better about that. At least, so they say."   
"If you say it, then I believe it." Kyrie commented, giving him a little help. It wouldn't be so bad not to have dishes and chores to accomplish for a while.   
"That's why you're my favorite." Seifer winked. 

One last long look at her room... until the weekend, anyway. She'd be back in just a couple of days. It still felt so final, though. So... total and completed already. She shrugged the feeling away, closing her suitcases. Just two. She'd probably only need two. For now, anyway.   
With a deep breath, she lifted her luggage and walked slowly down the stairs. One more glance into the empty kitchen. One more casual walk into the living room. She reminded herself once more that this was _not_ final, but it was hard to think of it as anything else. For all intents and purposes, she didn't live here anymore.   
Squall walked back from the car and held the door for her without a word. There was a sense that she needed to bear the burden of her suitcases on her own; for now. It was like a miniature right of passage. A symbolic sending off by her parents, a symbolic "going off" on her part. How strange it was to walk out the door with suitcases. Stranger still was the feeling she got when she stepped off the porch and onto the driveway; almost a melancholy elation. Off into the world: back in a few days.   
Seifer waited by the car, opening the trunk when she approached. She imagined he probably had the same look on his face as she did. She couldn't really trace any of the emotions, but they were all there. Everything she was feeling. It became way too weird to think of emotion at that point in time. She simply threw her bags into the trunk and got in the back seat. Too much. Now it seemed too real. Too emotional. Too... mushy.   
There was a silence all the way to the station as she reclined and blanked out. It was a silence of sadness, as though she were already gone. But there were also glimmers of hope in it. Too hard to explain. Too hard to understand. She'd never been away from them before. This moment alone was so... strange to live through.   
_I'm going to miss their laughter._ She thought suddenly, for no reason at all. Squall didn't laugh often, but when he did... it was just a good laugh. An incredible laugh. And Seifer's was so loud and contagious. She wasn't sure she'd be hearing any sort of pleasant laughter for a long time, where she was headed.   
Well, that wasn't true. There was Quistis. She had a laugh that was far from feminine. It wasn't disgusting or anything, nor did it contain snorts, but it was just... unladylike.   
She wiped her thoughts of such things. It's not like she wasn't going to be relatively close by, under the watchful eye of an old friend. It's not as if she couldn't go back for visits every couple of weeks. Or more, depending. She wasn't going away for good, or really even for a long period of time.   
That didn't change the awkward, almost unbearable silence. It was sad and proud and happy and lonely all at once. And it was really starting to get on her nerves. But there wasn't a lot to talk about. The drive was half over by the time she would even have attempted a last conversation, so there wasn't much point to it. It just kinda... sucked.   
Pulling into the train station's parking lot, her heart began to speed up. Whether it was the adrenaline of the "great adventure" ahead, or simply because she was thinking of how long she'd get lost in Trabia Garden before anyone would realize she was missing, she couldn't have said. Maybe it was the feeling of being too late to turn back. Maybe she didn't want to. Either way, she saw both of her parents take large, stabilizing breaths before they got out of the car. A strange thing to bear witness to.   
Squall opened her door without a word, just waiting close by for her. Almost as if he were trying to protect her on the last leg of their journey together. Maybe those thoughts were more accurate than she knew, but the time to think on that was not that moment. She had a train to catch.   
Each parent took a bag for her, walking close behind like two bodyguards as she followed the signs to the luggage area. There were the occasional glances here and there from people who recognized one of them. No doubt many wondered who she was. No doubt more wondered what Seifer was doing there. But, luckily, no one approached. No one outright _stared_. That was a nice change of pace.   
She felt a little reluctant to give her suitcases to the pimple-laden boy who was loading the baggage train. He was certainly as old as, if not older than, she was. But she'd had plenty of time to feel a hell of a lot older. He did seem like your average, stereotypical "nice kid", though. So long as he didn't lose her things, she'd choose to continue to believe that.   
With the train to Esthar right across the way from the luggage run to Trabia, they didn't have far to walk. And Kyrie could see the Trabia line take off from the station, with no bags fluttering out the back. That was somewhat comforting. The mood had become almost unbearable, though. Herself, she was slightly numb. Thoughts flew through her head; all of the distant, stupid, and very likely possibilities of her future at Garden. Her parents sat close to one another across the seat aisle from her, seeming to find comfort only in being able to stare at people walking by. Another weird moment. Another changing moment.   
It didn't take long for the call for the Esthar train to sound obnoxiously on the speakers. It had startled Kyrie out of yet another imagining of the interior of Trabia Garden, complete with monsters of all sorts and the carcasses of several disappeared headmasters. It occurred to her, as they walked up to the train itself, that she ought to write some of this shit down. It could make money.   
"Nary loading!" the conductor called. Train lingo meaning, "We're leaving quickly due to a lack of passengers."   
A fast good-bye. That didn't seem right. But, neither did a long, slow one. It'd already been too drawn out. And it had started to wear on nerves and emotions.   
This wasn't really a good-bye, though. It was a... see-you-later. "I guess it's time." Kyrie suggested quietly.   
Seifer nodded. "Better get going."   
She took a deep breath, and just one moment to close her eyes. Here goes. So it begins. "I love you, Father." She said, wrapping her arms around him.   
Seifer hugged her back, squeezing her almost hard enough to break something. Almost. "I love you too, sweetheart." He squeezed again, then reluctantly let go to kiss her softly on the cheek.   
She returned the affection and turned to Squall. "I love you, Dad."   
Surprising her, he wrapped his arms around her before she even had the chance. Was that a little emotion she'd seen on his face? It was hard to tell, but she was pretty sure it was. "I love you too, Kyrie."   
It figured, didn't it. The one time her name didn't sound like some far away storybook place, and she was leaving. But it didn't matter. She'd be back soon. She hugged him hard and forced herself to pull away, kissing his cheek first.   
She saw it then, as her parents forced themselves to pull back. They did love her, and they hated to see her go. She was sorry for being such a prick, but she decided now was not really the time. "Take care, dammit." She decided upon.   
"We will." Squall tried to raise his voice above a whisper. "You call us tonight, though."   
"I will." She promised, seeing the conductor wave her aboard.   
"And don't take candy from strangers!" Seifer tried his hardest to grin insanely.   
"Take candy, gotcha." She joked, unable to do much else. The train was getting ready to leave, so she waved as she was ushered in. "I'll call!" she yelled over the whistle as the train set to move. 

How fucking _weird_ it was to be on a train without her parents. Not so uncomfortable, though. The cars were far from full; in fact, the seats next to her and the ones across the aisle were completely vacant. So, taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, she stretched out a little.   
No one talked to her, or hardly looked at her, the entire way there. It was under an hour ride to Esthar, so it wasn't so unusual for passengers to keep to themselves on the shorter trips, especially when they were used to the commute. She didn't have the energy to make small talk with strangers, anyway. She was trying to conserve all conversation for Laguna. She'd be needing it.   
It was quite the pretty ride, despite being on the Esthar plains. The continent itself resembled nothing of the major city; it was bare and harsh where the city itself was a masterpiece of engineering. Seeing the peaks and plateaus in the distance was a marvel, though. It had always been, for her. Just the wonder of what may live on those mountains. Or, better yet, underneath them. Maybe she was just a little monster obsessed.   
The ride was over almost before it began, in her mind. She must have zoned out entirely. Ah well, it was practice for Laguna. She tried not to grin at that, but it was quite the task. In just a few minutes, she'd be trying to get away from him, most likely. Although it might be a great deal of fun to just stay throughout the day and see how many millions of conversations he could have with himself, she _did_ eventually need to make it to Trabia.   
As the train slowed into the unloading dock, she stretched. Sure she could take a nifty moving sidewalk right to the Presidential Estate, but what's the fun in that? She checked the clock as she stepped onto the platform and noted she had plenty of time to wander. Not that she ought to, of course. But maybe a little shopping wouldn't be so bad. At least one stop before Laguna. It'd help prepare her, anyway.   
Esthar Station was the most massive place she'd ever encountered. She'd thought it a world all its own when she was younger. It still seemed to be so as she walked into the shopping wing. Of course, Esthar Station used to be Esthar Airstation, which would explain the incredibly high ceilings and the vast amount of space. After the new airstation was built, they turned the former one into the train station and a plethora of shopping malls that bled into the rest of the city, creating a metropolis. It was a fun place, to say the least. And, luckily, within walking distance of the Presidential Estate, which was more or less in the heart of the city.   
She checked her pocket for her security keycards. Couldn't get in to see Laguna without them. Luckily, she was worried for nothing. She knew Esthar was a pretty damn safe place, regardless of the size. But she felt, no matter the circumstances, she could never be too careful. Then she looked down at her side and smiled at her gunblade; she'd nearly forgotten it was there, it felt so natural. That would probably keep thieves at bay. Kept a few people from looking at her for too long, as well.   
Casually, she wandered into the shop she'd been in every time she'd visited before. It was simply a women's specialty clothing store (there was no secret that it was mainly affordable fashion for transsexuals), but somehow she felt drawn to it. Not to it, truth be told, but to the man behind the counter. As she walked past the blue plaque with gold letters reading "Cloud's Shop", she took a breath of the familiar. It always smelled the same. Of silk, velvet, cheap shoes and just a hint of perfume. Her parents took her to visit her grandfather every year, and in the period away she would completely forget what the place smelled like (not that she thought of it often). But when she returned, there it was, familiar as always. Strange that a clothing store she saw once a year would matter at all to her.   
"Ms. Leonhart!" she heard from the back of the shop, near the dressing rooms. Certain enough, it was the owner, having noticed her already. She waved back, just glad to see a familiar face. Upon every visit since she was old enough to notice, she'd been amazed that he hadn't aged a day since she saw him last. This time was no different. Same spiked blond hair, same friendly manner, same laid back fashion sense.   
Sure, she didn't know him. But she sort of felt she did. Now that she was on her own, it seemed only natural that she stop in on her way to "total freedom". She had very little interest in this type of women's clothing, however; her visits seemed to be more out of tradition later on than actual need. But Cloud always seemed to find her something interesting, as though he'd been saving up all year just for her.   
Taking note of the clearance section that never failed to look exactly the same as it did on all previous visits, she walked up to him. In some ways, it felt odd to openly converse with a complete stranger, knowing her name or not. But again, she couldn't deny this terribly strong feeling that she knew him. Or perhaps, in the least, that she felt safe with him.   
"My goodness." Cloud stated, stepping back a moment to take her all in. "You've grown." He took a moment to gaze into her eyes. The first time he'd seen them, he'd felt violently ill. It was just that he hadn't seen eyes that deeply blood red for... quite some time. They were still as crimson as they'd always been, but glitteringly so, like living pools of blood. The excitement of being a little more free and able to do more or less what she wanted was obvious. "And what can I do for you?"   
"It's a tradition." She responded, just a little more gittily than normal. Somehow not being accompanied by anyone was quite the enjoyable freedom.   
"So it is." Cloud smiled, indicating for her to walk with him to the other side of the store. "Alone on this trip?"   
"Stopping by to visit my grandfather before I head off to Trabia Garden." She responded, stopping along side him.   
He riffled through a few of the coats before he continued. "Ah, congratulations. You must be excited to escape your leash." He grinned, fully knowing she was enjoying every last taste of the freedom of being alone. It was no secret from him that she was the President of Esthar's granddaughter. Nor was it who her parents were. He went back to searching through the coats on the rack.   
"So far so good." She watched him wander through the various shades of fabric, wondering what it was he was looking for.   
At long last, he murmured, "Aha..." and pulled a belt of all things from somewhere in the center of the rack. "I was saving this for you."   
She stared at his find. Plain black leather with an even more plain silver buckle. It was still very, very nice. It looked genuinely ancient, like it was very old but very well cared for. It even had the smell of old leather, the well-worn crinkles in the surface and so forth. Very well done fakery by an obviously expensive designer. Strangely enough, it went perfectly with her gunblade scabbard... and then she met his eyes for a moment, curiously. Grinning ever so slightly to show she wasn't _completely_ serious, she inquired, "Who put you up to this?"   
He appeared puzzled at first, then looked down at her jeans. He, too, realized how perfectly the belt matched. It looked as though it had been made as a set, really; the belt just had a much more aged look about it. "I guess someone just has similar taste." He smiled politely.   
She nodded, satisfied. An extra belt was always useful. And a fashionable one, in her case, certainly wouldn't hurt. "How much do I owe you?"   
Cloud took hold of both ends of the belt and spun it in the air almost unconsciously, then laid it with a light smack in her hand. "Consider it a gift." He just couldn't get those red eyes out of his mind.   
She tilted her head, her hand slowly clamping around the leather. "Are you sure about that?"   
"Yes, of course." He smiled. "I get... enough business, here." He grinned in a nearly suggestive way.   
She laughed softly. "Well... alright. Thank you. I guess I'd better get going before Mr. President sends someone to find out why I'm late."   
He nodded and waved as she walked off. When she was out of sight, he sighed to himself. She'd grown up in front of his eyes. How long would it be before he had to disappear again and find something else to do for a while? It would be much longer before he'd see someone else with those eyes, he was sure. It'd been so long already. 

The distance from the shopping center to the Laguna's "palace" seemed quite a bit shorter than usual. Maybe that was because there was no Squall trying to dodge the attention of guards that may know him, and no Seifer trying to hide from the entire world. She didn't think such a thought in a negative way, but it was the truth. Occasionally a guard would stop and stare for just a moment more than they would at a "normal" person, no doubt seeing the pendant or the gunblade at her side. But she didn't mind, really. She was proud of whoever/whatever the hell she was.   
Things hadn't changed much in a year's time. Except the flower beds outside the estate were all torn out. No doubt some very interesting story behind that, but she doubted she'd have the time (or opportunity) to ask. Without a word, a polite smile on her face, she presented her level 3 keycard to the uniformed guard outside the main entrance.   
He turned the card over and tapped it against his glove. Then he moved it back and forth, noting the genuine hologram. Finally, he placed it in the slot behind him, and the door beeped as it opened.   
_Why is he even here?_ she wondered behind that same flat, polite smile, taking her card back and pushing the door open herself. _And doesn't he know he's paid to hold the door open, too?_   
It didn't matter, really. It was a nice day. Why ruin it with the obvious questions? She walked down the hallway into the room that held the elevator chamber. Level 7 card in hand, she swiped it through the slot and was immediately let through with a casual mechanic "ding". Not so bad. She was nearly there without problems.   
She got out on the seventh floor and walked over to the left, down an eerily lit hallway to the second lift; the one that would actually get her to Laguna. Fumbling with the last keycard, she was interrupted by a shrill whistle from behind her. With a smile, she recognized him right away as he bounded toward her.   
He stopped and looked at her silently with a returned smile on his face, then hugged her. She was quiet, sweet, and perfectly willing to interrupt Laguna should she need to. He liked her. A lot.   
"Good to see you too, Ward." It was true. Regardless of not being able to talk, she and Ward had had a great many conversations with facial expressions when she was still young enough to have not been required to pay attention to her grandfather's rantings.   
After another giant squeeze, Ward released her with no permanent damage. He smiled again and indicated it was time to use her keycard.   
She did so, the lift dinging and opening without hesitation. As the doors closed and the tiny mirrored room began to move, Kyrie made small talk. "How've you been?"   
Ward expanded his arms and shrugged slightly. Translation: "Okay. Pretty good."   
As much as she did appreciate her grandfather's constant chatter, she also found the utter and simple silence just as comforting. "Bag yourself a girl yet?" she grinned.   
The towering soldier put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Translation: "Indecent question. And none of your business."   
"Is that a 'no', then?" she continued to tease.   
He shook his finger at her. No translation necessary. He then held his hands out to her. Translation: "And how are you?"   
"Good." She answered honestly. "Maybe a little nervous, but good."   
The lift dinged again, indicating that they had arrived at the proper level. Ward gave her the thumbs-up ("Good luck!"), and another hug.   
"I bet I'll see you again soon." She assured him, stepping off and giving him a wave.   
Ward waved back and gave another thumbs-up as the doors closed. He assumed she needed quite a bit of luck to get out on time to catch her next train.   
Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked down the hallway. If she remembered correctly, it was right, left, right. If she didn't... then she'd be _really_ late on her first day. Luckily, as she witnessed Kiros strolling in the hallway, she was reaffirmed.   
He glanced at his watch before he greeted her, his voice a little softer than usual. "Kyrie, nice to see you. And you're a bit early on top of that. That may be helpful."   
She grinned. "That was the intention. Should I be warned of anything?"   
"Nothing out of the ordinary." He responded with a heavy sigh. I'm just back from my break. We'll both have to sit through this."   
Kyrie didn't bother commenting on that. There was no use, really. One thing was certain: keeping up would require a severe burst of caffeine.   
Kiros read her mind. "Coffee's on the table."   
With a Ward-ish thumbs-up, Kyrie stepped on the pressure sensitive unlock and walked through the opened door. It was literally like stepping into another universe; the energy that the room gave off was pretty intense. No doubt all of it came from Laguna. Kiros joked that he could power the whole planet, had they only a way to hook him up to it.   
There he was. She could _feel_ his eyes dart to her as though they were pure beams of energy. "Kyrie!" he raced out of his chair to greet her.   
_Oh boy. Here we go._ She prepared herself as best she could as the lightning flash that was her grandfather approached.   
Laguna hugged her tightly, already starting to talk a mile a minute. "It's great to see you! You've grown up so fast. You're such a beautiful young lady. You remind me so much of Raine already. And sort of my son, if I only knew him better."   
Kiros slapped his own face with the palm of his hand and held it there, his eyes closed in agony over hearing all of this. Kyrie gave him a look of sympathy that he felt rather than saw, and turned back to her grandfather.   
"What will you be studying first?" Laguna asked, indicating for her to sit with him at the conference table.   
"World history and politics." She responded, making herself comfortable and casually forgetting to mention the fact she was also being forced to take algebra. How she hated algebra. It was, however, kind of nice to know that she didn't have to do hardly any talking at all for the next... however long she was kept there. _Screw the train._   
"Wow, world history." Laguna began, sitting back and getting comfortable to ramble. "You'll probably get into all of the wars and everything. I'm probably even going to be mentioned. That's quite a strange thing, me being mentioned in a history class. I never thought the day would come. Kind of odd, don't you think so, Kiros?"   
He only murmured something along the lines of "yeah". It was hard to tell. His hand was still against his face, his eyes still closed. This was going to be a long day. Hyper in the morning meant twice as hyper in the afternoon. Sympathetically, he indicated the coffee decanter to Kyrie.   
She suppressed a grin as best as she could, nodding slightly. She loved her grandfather dearly, but sometimes he talked himself stupid. Literally.   
"And what after that?" Laguna was eager to open up more conversation.   
"I'm not sure yet." She admitted. "Maybe different forms of combat." She graciously accepted the steaming cup from Kiros as he poured himself yet another helping.   
Laguna seemed to take that particular moment in time to see her brand new gunblade. "My goodness. That just looks lovely on you. I haven't had a chance to see it yet. But I helped my son track down the man who made his. Of course, he was dead, but his son was still alive..."   
The conversation (or the informal speech, you could say) continued upward and onward. Kyrie was certain she wouldn't remember a damn thing they were talking about anyway. Just listening to Laguna was a drug-like high. The coffee really did help her to understand what he was saying, though. The "Am I going too fast for you?"s were met with a casual shake of the head. Though she could easily have promised her first born to him without having caught it. At least the passage of time stopped existing for what seemed like a good chunk of history condensed into an instant.   
_So this is time compression._ She thought, trying very hard not to laugh as she sipped at cup number two.   
"I think she's already late for the train, Laguna." Kiros finally interrupted without bothering to be terribly polite about it.   
Laguna's face fell. "Oh." He looked at his watch, to the clock on the wall, then back. "Yes. Well, you better get going, then."   
She almost felt badly about that. It was true that she had to be leaving, but she didn't want to go on a down note. "But I'm sure I'll be back around to visit more often than usual."   
Her grandfather's eyes lit up again with their usual gleam. "I hope so."   
"I promise to try, anyway." She assured him kindly. He meant well. Certainly one of the most kind hearted people she had ever met.   
"That's all the assurance I need." Laguna stood up and held his arms open expectantly.   
Who was she to deny the President of Esthar? She stood and embraced her grandfather. "Take care of yourself, huh Grandpa?"   
He smiled at being called the closest thing to "Dad" he'd ever heard. "Always! And you too, Kyrie."   
"And you take care of yourself. And him." She winked at Kiros.   
He felt too tired even to acknowledge the action, but he did nod slightly. "It's my job, dear."   
"Do you need to be walked out?" Laguna was genuinely concerned.   
Kyrie looked again at poor, drained Kiros, and shook her head. "I remember the way out, luckily."   
"See you soon then." Her grandfather gave her another quick squeeze.   
She returned it. And then she knew when to get the hell out while she still could. "Talk to you guys later." She said with a wave, on her way out the door.   
As she heard it shut behind her, she took in a breath of the stale air on the outside. She hadn't bothered to see what the time was, herself. It didn't really matter. There were lots of trains headed for Trabia through the day. She wouldn't have to wait longer than half an hour.   
Keycard in hand, she went back to the seventh floor and the main elevator. As she passed her card through, she was stopped at the door by the arms of a rushing Ellone. "Oh, do you have to go already?"   
Kyrie was dazed for a moment before she returned the hug. It seemed like Elle had just appeared out of nowhere. Apparently it'd been a busy morning for her, as well. "I'm afraid I'm already late. A couple more minutes won't matter."   
Elle pulled away and smiled warmly. "Well, just a couple, then. It's good to see you! I hope Laguna didn't keep you..." she trailed off, realizing that he was most certainly the reason for her tardiness. "Well, I'm just glad you stopped by."   
Kyrie grinned. "It's just orientation, anyway. I'll probably make more appearances now that I have to travel back and forth to see everyone."   
Ellone nodded happily. "I hope so. It seems like I blinked and missed your childhood! How are Squall and Seifer?"   
"They're both well." Kyrie responded more out of instinct than honesty. She was quite thrilled to have told the truth, though. "Probably pretty lonely now." She joked.   
"Probably having the time of their lives." Ellone returned with a giggle. Seriously, but not quite filled with hope, she inquired, "And when are they going to come here for a visit?"   
What a question. But, Ellone knew of the "situation". "Not a clue." Kyrie responded honestly. "But I bet I could get them to sometime soon."   
"I hope so." Her aunt sighed softly. "I haven't seen either of them in a while." She paused, eyes cast downward. "Oh, well, you ought to be going. Just tell them I said hello, would you?"   
"I will, Elle." She promised.   
"Take care." Ellone rained blessings upon her, drawing her in for another hug.   
_I've never been hugged so damn much in my life!_ Kyrie kept to herself. "You too." She responded, spinning them both so that their places were reversed. She waved to Elle as the doors closed and the lift descended.   
Squall was so right about coffee. It got things done. Or at least made you feel like you'd gotten things done. Illusion can be just as good as the real thing. Stepping off at the bottom, she made note of the time. Almost eight o'clock. _Shit._ She thought at first. But then, if she could make it to the station by or just a few minutes past the hour, she could catch the next train to Trabia without waiting.   
_Let's see what this coffee can do._ She walked quickly out the door, past the confused looking door guard who swore he'd seen her before but wasn't sure from where, and jogged back through to the trains. 

She checked the clock above the doorway to her train car again. Nine-thirty. Damn. She was _supposed_ to be in Trabia Garden _at_ nine. Preferably up to an hour before. She had managed to catch the eight o'clock train, but the fact remained that she was late. _Ah well,_ she went back to reading the newspaper. She'd be there in a matter of minutes, anyway.   
Apparently there wasn't much going on "in this part of the world", either. It was quite a bit cooler than Pandora Wake, her previous home, but nothing she'd needed to pack especially for. She stopped reading and looked up, thinking about that. Her "previous home". How odd. Glancing back at the paper, all she found were sports scores, light rain, and a human interest story about something she wasn't interested in. She skipped it right away.   
Folding the paper, she glanced at the other possible reading materials in the front of the car. Again, she was almost completely alone on this leg of the journey. Must not be travel season. Or all students but herself were already there. She didn't doubt it.   
There was a tabloid or two, but no interesting reading. Nothing intelligent. Not that she was much in the mood for drawn out explanations of the universe or the latest advances in science, but this candy sweet "no news is good news" shit had to stop.   
With another glance out the window, she realized it didn't matter. She saw the station right ahead; and, behind it, Trabia Garden. It was still a pretty good distance from the station itself, but it was massive. It towered above all other buildings in the area; possibly all other buildings on the continent. Her visions of getting lost in the bowels of the building weren't so far-fetched after all. How comforting.   
As the train stopped, she noted that at least she knew where to go. She couldn't possibly miss her destination at this point in time. Once inside, she could panic. Until then, all she had to do was walk toward the object.   
The streets themselves were almost deserted. _Must be a Garden town, alright..._ her thoughts sounded as she saw a couple of closed night clubs along what appeared to be the main street. At least, it wound directly into Garden. Judging from the path she took, it was a damn nice town at least. For the most part, she tried to keep her eyes only on the dome of the massive building she was headed for, but when she'd look off to the side or when something caught her eye, she was greeted by several well-to-do businesses. She made absolutely certain to make note of the music store and the bakery as she passed them. Those were the most important things to remember about a new town.   
In reality, the Garden must have been about four blocks from the train station. It seemed like twenty, but this was a new place. When she crossed the final intersection crosswalk, she stood at the entrance for a good, long time. There rose before her a threshold to decide to pass through, if you will. Obviously, she didn't really have anywhere else to go. And nothing better to do. So far so good; she was up for the challenge. Grasping the silver handle on the glass door, she breathed in that final outside freedom.   
The place was indeed incredibly huge. Just plain amazing. The entrance room alone must have been the size of a medium sized passenger ship, as she felt she could see people moving all the way to the horizon. Just unbelievable. She had no idea the place was so immense. Two stairways seemed to go up forever on either side, and a fountain three times her height echoed with trickling water in the middle. It was _incredible_.   
Just as she was about to wander around and get herself lost, no doubt, she heard a soft voice behind her. "Kyrie?"   
She turned and stood face to face with none other than Instructor Trepe. "Hey Quisty."   
Her aunt grinned. "You look like you've found a lost city or something."   
"I feel very much like that." Kyrie admitted. "This place is... incredible."   
"And you're not even inside yet!" Quistis giggled. "I thought I'd better show you to your room or Squall will be terribly distressed."   
"Somehow I think it takes a lot for him to get 'distressed'..." she halfway mumbled.   
"You are such a smart girl." Quistis remarked. "I bet they already miss you." Never having had a child of her own, it was nice to spend time with Kyrie. She was already grown up and should the need arise, she could just hand her back to her parents to deal with. It was so much easier being a teacher than a parent. Well, usually.   
"I wonder if they're tearing each other's eyes out by now..." Kyrie pondered humorously. "That'd be a good family photo."   
Quistis gave her a lopsided grin. "None better than when Seifer was crossing his eyes and no one noticed for years."   
Kyrie laughed with her on that one. Seifer had never lived that down, and the portrait in question was "hidden" deep inside one of his lower dresser drawers. Her laughing caused Griever to lightly chime against one of her buttons.   
Quistis noticed, quietly. She was a little stunned to see the pendant anywhere beyond Squall's neck. But then, these were quite different circumstances, weren't they? His only child going off to Garden, it was probably a farewell gift. "Well, let me get you to your room. Oh, and one more thing..."   
"Yes?" Kyrie pressed, following Quistis around the fountain and down the long hall between the two stairways.   
"You are _late_, young lady." She grinned. 

As the door opened, she glimpsed her bags on the bed, already waiting for her. "What service." Kyrie commented.   
"All of the rooms are much nicer than anything _we_ ever had." Quistis admitted, following her in. "Every room has a computer console and a closet."   
Kyrie's curiosity was piqued; she located the closet on the left and opened the door, instantly feeling an almost gravitational pull. "Are all of the closets this big?"   
The instructor smiled widely. "Well, for some reason larger closets come with these 'special singles'."   
That was hard to believe. "This whole room is mine?" She'd just assumed the second bed hadn't arrived yet; there was certainly room for it.   
Quistis nodded. "I can play favorites if I want to."   
Awe. Total and utter awe. "I'm indebted to you." Kyrie joked.   
"Yes, you are." Her aunt grinned. "But that can be worked out later. Check out the bathroom."   
Kyrie responded immediately to the suggestion, walking in and flipping the light switch. "I get my _own shower_?"   
Quistis looked almost as delighted as her newest student felt. "If you'd rather use the public ones..."   
"Don't even joke about taking this away, Quisty." She took a deep, cleansing breath, then shut the light off. This was good. This was damn good. It paid to have friends and family, indeed.   
The instructor smiled widely at her, pleased that everything was falling into place. "Have you had anything to eat this morning?"   
Kyrie's stomach instantly jumped at the question. She _had_ eaten, and quite well. But that had been hours ago, and she'd had to full-out run the last few yards to the train just to catch up with it and throw herself inside. Besides, on her usual schedule it'd be about time for lunch. "I would appreciate seeing the cafeteria." She decided upon.   
There was a different sort of gleam in her aunt's eyes; she was _very_ much pleased by the decision. Perhaps she had plans. Or, perhaps she just wanted a conversation. It had been a while. Wordlessly, she indicated to follow, and lead her way down the hall and to an elevator.   
As they trekked onward, Kyrie didn't feel quite as awkward being late. It didn't seem like anyone else was doing anything important, anyway. Most of the students seemed to be just hanging out in the halls or riding the lifts with abandon. Here and there she witnessed large circles of card players, inventing new rules as they went along.   
"I know it probably won't thrill you, but we can eat lunch together a lot more often now, if you'd like." Quistis suggested, taking the last turn in the third floor hallway before the cafeteria. "I know you probably don't want to be around an old maid, though." She added jokingly.   
"Oh, I don't mind old people." Kyrie couldn't help but smile at the end of that. Damn, she wanted to say it deadpan to see a reaction, too.   
"I don't know where you got that sense of humor." Quistis teased. "But if you call me Quisty in class, you will fail."   
"I'll try very hard to remember that, ma'am." Kyrie solitude halfassed. She was certainly not disappointed by the size of the cafeteria as they entered; it appeared just as large as the entrance room on the first floor, with a slightly lower ceiling. Tables upon tables and several lunch counters as far as the eye could see; and these were not cheap tables. They made the place look like a really big coffee house of sorts, with four to six seats per round table and a silver napkin holder in the center.   
Quistis stopped and seemed to stare at a boy who was sitting by himself in the nearest corner. Then her lips quivered into a smile, and she silently suggested that Kyrie follow her over.   
"Rodger?" Quistis called politely as they approached. The kid at the table looked up from obviously zoning out and stood up so fast he nearly knocked everything over. Clumsily, he caught the edge and set it back down. "Yes, Instructor Trepe?"   
Quistis: Matchmaker Extroirdonaire. "Sorry to interrupt, Rodger. You just looked a bit lonely. I thought I'd introduce you to another new student."   
Kyrie held back a moment to look him over. Tall, slender, faded blue jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it was actually black once upon a time, red-brown hair that just barely reached his eyes in the front of his face. Not a bad looking guy at all. When Quistis looked back to her expectantly, she stepped forward and offered her hand. "Kyrie Leonhart."   
It almost looked as though Quistis flinched a little. Maybe she did. Maybe she was expecting something else or nothing at all. Didn't matter now that everything was out of the way, did it?   
"And you'd be Rodger." She continued for him.   
"That's my name." He smiled a little nervously. The Instructor was watching him, after all.   
She quickly took care of that, however. "Well, I think I'll leave you two to chat without a crusty old woman around." She smiled and waved as she was already walking away.   
Rodger just stared at his new lunch companion, looking her over. As she looked back, delicately making friendly mockery of the way he was inspecting her, he finally realized his manners. "Oh, I'm sorry. Please sit down."   
She did so, eagerly. Seems Quistis was at it again. Only this time she had done this to _family_. Lucky, lucky her. What psycho had she introduced her to?   
Rodger sat down as well, not too terribly disappointed with Quistis' choice thus far. No, he hadn't asked for it or indicated he needed company, but he took what he could get. "So, your last name's Leonhart?" he began curiously.   
She nodded, carefully watching him. Sometimes this didn't begin well. It certainly never _ended_ well. Most of the time they knew of Seifer (who didn't?), and the events of the past. Then there would be a big discussion about what a traitor he was. She didn't want that to happen. She held no shame for her father but his own.   
But, thus far, he only nodded. "As in, Squall Leonhart?"   
Here it came. But she was ready. "That's right."   
He surprised her by smiling. "Hey, then our parents went to Garden together. I'm Irvine and Selphie Kinneas' son."   
To her own surprise, she mirrored his smile slightly. "Yes, I've heard of them. How are they? I was going to call my parents later..."   
"Yeah, well..." he trailed off, obviously uncomfortable. "They're kind of... separated now. My dad's got a wandering eye, and Ma's not too happy about it."   
She did not mean to let that grin through. She really didn't want to wind up offending this guy who seemed so nice and, for all intents and purposes at this point, pretty genuine. "Sorry." She apologized, trying to wipe the amusement from her face. "I heard about that part, too."   
He let go of a halfway amused smile, himself. "It's kinda famous, yeah." He cleared his throat, feeling almost guilty that he was finding it so funny as well. "And how are your parents?"   
She didn't know how he felt about Seifer. She assumed he'd probably taken his parents' stance and held the entire topic at arm's length. They hadn't completely abandoned Squall for choosing Seifer, like Zell had. But they didn't exactly want to talk to him or anyone else involved any time other than holidays, either. A generic answer would suffice. "They're well. A little strange since they noticed their daughter was going away, but well."   
He felt glad to be able to relax a little. "Yeah, I know that feeling. My mother wouldn't even let me out the door until she inspected all of my bags. Had to make sure I had enough socks and stuff."   
She smiled, remembering the train earlier that morning. "I'm surprised mine let me go at all."   
Rodger allowed himself one more quick up and down glance before deciding it was alright to completely relax around her. "Gunblade too, eh?"   
She patted the side of her precious weapon lovingly. "Quite an addictive toy."   
Something about her voice very nearly drove him to blushing, though he couldn't quite put his finger on _why_. "Sounds like it's a lot harder than it looks. There aren't many experts."   
"And what's your specialty?" she inquired innocently.   
He grinned proudly. "Rifle. But I can do pretty well with a pistol, too." It was one of the better things his father had passed onto him.   
They were interrupted momentarily by a rather burly woman in a hair net setting trays down in front of them. She didn't really so much as acknowledge their existence, but at least she was careful not to spill anything. That was enough. Two relatively edible looking sandwiches with a side of chips and soda that neither of them recognized. The woman walked away without so much as a word and left them to their meal.   
Quite astoundingly reappearing out of nowhere, Quistis wandered right next to them. "Just checking in on you two." She said innocently. "And decided to warn you about the food."   
"Poisoned?" Kyrie asked.   
"Oh, well, that's a given." The instructor joked. "But more importantly, no matter what you order, I feel I should tell you that it all tastes like pork." She shuddered.   
That was less than appetizing. "Quality food, then." Kyrie could barely suppress the urge to ask if she could call in for something. Every day.   
The instructor smiled. "I have to eat it too, you know." There was very little pause before she changed the subject entirely, seeing as how it appeared she was at least partially successful in her efforts to introduce two loners to one another. "I'll be seeing you two around, I'm sure." She turned and walked away before either of the teens could feel particularly awkward.   
There was still a little awkwardness lingering, however. Understandable. The two of them stared in silence at their food for a moment. "I guess you know her better than I do..?" Rodger asked, turning over a green chip with the tip of his finger.   
Kyrie was already busy checking under the bread. It looked turkey-like. It smelled turkey-like. But she couldn't help but smell just a little pork, too. She smirked; at either Quistis' mind control tactics or the kitchen staff. Either way. "Yeah. She was kind of like the... stepmother figure in my youth."   
"Stepmother?" he found some amusement in that, opening his soda. May as well try it before condemning it.   
"Well, my 'real' aunt was more the motherly, feminine figure. Quistis was... just a bit of a slightly below evil stepmother." She took a deep breath and bit into the sandwich. "But she's still Auntie Quistis when I want something."   
Rodger laughed. "What a family... how is it?" He still hadn't gained the courage to actually _drink_ the soda.   
"Porky." Kyrie grinned. "Actually, more like turkey. But I swear there _is_ a little pork."   
She certainly wasn't "charming" in the sense of what most men may find delightful about a woman, no. But she was a lot of fun to talk to, he thought. "Nothing crunchy in there?"   
She turned the sandwich, took another bite from the opposite end, chewed and swallowed. "Not yet. What about that drink?"   
Rodger shrugged. "Smells like... vitamins or something..."   
"Ah, every lunch an adventure..." Kyrie murmured, trying a chip. "At least these are good and normal."   
"I'll be living off of these, then..." he swore, trying one himself.   
Brave as Kyrie may be, her appetite just wasn't up to par in the first place. She couldn't finish more than half of her sandwich and about 1/3 of her chip pile before courageously trying that soda. She swallowed several gulps before the full reality hit her. "It _tastes_ like vitamins, too."   
As Rodger opened his mouth to comment, the PA system chimed in three tones. A gruff, masculine voice instantly followed. "There will be a Garden-wide assembly in the Assembly Hall in ten minutes. Please _be_ in your seats and ready in ten minutes." Another three tones, and silence.   
"Oh, assembly." Rodger cheered under his breath with sarcasm.   
Kyrie sighed raggedly. Now it was in the hands of the gods, she supposed. She could just see being introduced to the entire school, in the middle of everyone. Probably with the best intentions, but that is indeed what the road to hell is paved with. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with assholes. She'd already been spoiled by a rather civil discussion with Rodger; reverting to the normal human contact was an awful thought.   
"Well... would you like to walk together?" he braved the question delicately, glad to be done with his meal.   
"Sure." She responded, pushing her chair back. "It's a good excuse not to 'mingle'."   
Rodger chuckled at that, standing. "Do you play cards?" he tried.   
She suppressed the urge to tease his efforts at conversation. "Not really. Not among crowds, anyway."   
He nodded, walking beside her to the double-wide student escalators. It was just easier and faster than taking a lift to the second floor during an assembly call. Maybe he was starting to be glad Quistis had intervened in his privacy. He wasn't certain, yet, but... then he caught Instructor Trepe by accident. She was standing on the "bridge" just above the escalator and to the opposite side of the "landing platform", looking down at them with a satisfied smirk on her face.   
Kyrie looked up to the same sight a moment later, feeling the eyes on her. She responded with a delicate smirk of her own, and a wave. She'd have responded with a joking flip of the bird, but this was a school.   
"You must be a favorite." Rodger joked.   
"I sure hope so." Came her instant and honest answer. _Hell, if I get my own room, what else can I get?_   
Like everything else about the place, the Trabia Garden Assembly Hall was absolutely incredible. It looked like it very well could have gone up forever, a stadium worth of seating and a huge platform which could just as easily be used as a stage for any quality of theater. There was even a chandelier in the center of the room, although it was made of steel and waved banners of various team winnings. It wasn't one of those tacky eyesores, though. It really looked like a piece of art.   
Seeing students file in, Kyrie felt just a little claustrophobic. The seats were still damn close to one another, despite having arm rests. She wondered, with a grin to herself, if they had cup holders, too.   
"Hey, where are you going?" Rodger asked, lightly grasping her arm. He pulled his hand back almost right away, not quite sure if the physical contact would be met with, well, violence. She just had that... air about her.   
While the touch had caught her off guard, the question drew more of her attention. "To... sit." It seemed obvious enough.   
"Oh." He responded. "I, uh... well, I thought we might sit together. I mean, you're the only person I know."   
She was certainly not used to invitations like that. But she wasn't about to deny her suspension of reality. She nodded and followed him. Might be nice to actually sit with someone who appeared to want to sit with her.   
They chose somewhere near the top of the room, just far enough away from the platform to be comfortably in range of the speaking, out of range of the staring, and right on the aisle. Damn good seats they'd snatched from the latecomers.   
As the hall filled up to nearly 95% capacity, Kyrie became astounded that so many students could possibly fit in the Garden. It had proven even bigger than she had last thought it to be, as all students were required to live (for the most part) on campus. Maybe it wasn't so bad. It was unlikely she'd see most of these people for more than one class.   
Just as the last students were settling in, a glimpse of the Headmaster could be caught. He was a large man with quite a bit of weight on him, dressed in a business suit. It looked very much out of place for a Garden. _But who am I to judge?_ Kyrie thought with a well hidden grin.   
The lights in the hall suddenly went down. Not all the way, but certainly enough to shush the conversations. Spreading his arms, the Headmaster boomed without the need for a microphone, "Welcome, students. I am Headmaster Immorein. You may refer to me as such, or as Sir."   
_What a joy._ Kyrie commented mentally.   
"It is a _privilege_ to be in Garden." He continued. "But it's also an honor to have all of you here. I certainly hope you will all consider being only the best of students for your teachers. Their work load is quite immense at the moment, since so many students have qualified and succeeded in attending this year."   
Placing his hands behind his back, he began to walk around the stage a bit, appearing "casual". "While I do require each and every one of you to take your education completely seriously, I do not expect that to be the entirety of your day. Therefore, each of you have instant access into the Training Grounds via your student keycards, located in your desks as you go back to your rooms."   
A murmured rush of excitement roamed the hall. Headmaster Immorein paused for it, then continued with his feet together and his back straight. "I require discipline, however. No one should spend all of their time in one area. Everyone ought to have a little of each part Trabia Garden has to offer. It is the newest of the Gardens, so the facilities offer plenty of space and amenities. Our Library, for instance, has a number of reading and reference rooms. I expect all of you to spend at least some time there."   
By this time, both Kyrie and Rodger were growing bored with the man's banter. Wasn't everything he said a given? Apparently they weren't the only ones having trouble paying attention; looking across the way, they could just make out some others slumped in their chairs, sleeping.   
The Headmaster seemed to notice as well. And he intended to do something about it. "And, most importantly..." he paused, taking a deep breath to shout, "Pay attention!"   
Several students actually fell out of their chairs. Kyrie placed a hand securely over her mouth so the sound of her laughter wouldn't reach "Sir's" ears.   
Once more, the Headmaster walked around the platform, taking a good look at the flock, new and old. "Knowing that... you may go."   
Most of the students were still a little too stunned to have realized what had been said. Kyrie and Rodger looked at one another and decided it was best to get out while the getting was good and relatively open. Not trying to look too eager, they maneuvered around the steadily increasing stream of other students, out the door.   
Back "on the outside", the two of them exchanged glances. Kyrie was the first to comment, "That was surreal."   
Her companion agreed with a chuckle. "I hope it doesn't get much worse."   
On cue, the PA system chimed again. "Will all students with the first letter of their last names falling between the letters 'A' and 'K' please report to the auditorium within ten minutes. All students with letters 'A' through 'K' beginning their last names, please report to the auditorium for continued assembly in ten minutes."   
"Damn." Rodger grunted.   
"Lucky you." Kyrie commented as seriously as she could manage.   
"You'll get your chance when I'm done." He grinned.   
"I sure hope it's another jubilant speech about being a good student." She murmured.   
Whatever it was, he didn't look forward to it. More boredom, how wonderful. "Hey, um..." he began shyly. "Can I... walk you to your room?"   
There was an undeniable shock taking hold of her at that moment. Truth be told, she'd never in her life had a boyfriend. Or really even a friend. Her efforts were left to combat, puzzles and trying to suppress rage that wasn't her own. But now someone had asked if they may accompany her to her room. Someone who very willingly had lunch with her, and still wanted to be around her. "Sure."   
Wordlessly, they strolled the escalator and the long student hallway until her turn-off. If she'd thought that entire assembly had been surreal, it was nothing compared to leading (for all intents and purposes) a complete stranger _to her room_. First of all, the fact that he asked. And second of all, the fact that she agreed. It was so damn... odd.   
She stopped somewhat suddenly, almost having passed the door to her room. Rodger couldn't deny the fact that the doors down her wing were a bit further apart than the ones in his. It wasn't important at the moment, though.   
"This... is it?" he asked quietly.   
"Yeah." She answered, still feeling weird to say the least. "This is mine."   
_122, 122, 122..._ he burned the room number into his mind. "Well... uh... I guess I'll see you after assembly maybe..?"   
Wow. Stranger and stranger. "Sure. Yeah. At least I bet we'll pass one another on the way."   
That wasn't entirely... settling. But it was a good enough answer. Why he felt the need to attach himself to her, he didn't really know. But it seemed right. And she'd hacked down his defenses pretty quickly, on top of that. "Alright, well... I'll see you."   
"Yeah." She answered. "I'll see you. And thanks."   
He nodded and walked away before the blush got a chance to visibly spread over his face. While he hoped she wouldn't think it rude for him to have rather suddenly darted off in the opposite direction, he wasn't sure he could handle her knowing he was blushing severely. I didn't seem... proper.   
Kyrie grinned as she glanced at his back, moving rather swiftly away from her. _A shy boy. Sweet._

Inside her "apartment", she checked the wall clock. Just past lunch time for her parents. She wondered if she ought to call right now; they'd probably be worried sick until she did. Or at least wonder where the hell she was, and whether she actually got there or not. Of course, they may have gone out to lunch. Sometimes they did, but not often.   
Why spend time wondering when you can know, after all. She sat on her bed and picked up the phone, dialing 9 for the outside extension. Getting the satisfactory click, she rang her parents.   
Three rings... four rings... they were probably out to lunch, alright. Then to her surprise, she heard the click of someone picking up, and the very end of a lust filled scream. It didn't take a genius to know what was going on.   
"Uh... hello?" Seifer said, trying to mask his voice.   
She smiled widely. "I'll back later..."   
"No! No, no, we were... just..."   
"Yeah, I don't need details. You _dog_, Father." She added, feeling particularly playful after lunch with a "gentleman".   
Seifer chuckled. "You'll have to... wait a moment or two to talk to your dad... he's... out."   
She really didn't know whether she should be laughing or feeling repulsed. Her father was joking about sex. Sex she'd just heard the end of (it was so very like him to pick up the phone during the end, too). That would probably drive some teenagers to shriek "ew!" and the like. Most certainly with the fact they were both males. Her, she just made an agreeable sound and continued. "You're living just fine without me, then?"   
"Oh, I wouldn't say that..." Seifer began.   
There was a bit of rustling behind him, and a whispered, "Who is it?"   
"You want to talk to _your dad_?" Seifer said loudly, his mouth away from the phone as he was already handing it over.   
Kyrie giggled darkly as she heard Squall's embarrassed moan, then Seifer's laughter. Seemed like the two had loosened up quite a bit already, didn't it?   
"Hey... Ky." He tried to get himself used to the nickname Seifer had always used. It was strange, but completely sincere. "How is everything?"   
"Who'd you have to bribe to get me this room?" she asked outright.   
Squall made an amused cough. "Quistis may have helped there. I think you might even have her for a class or two."   
Kyrie was glad for that. Someone she knew. And Quistis of all people. She knew she wouldn't have it any easier that way, certainly, but it would be a hell of a lot more fun.   
"Make any friends yet?" Seifer giggled in the background.   
It was sort of a sarcastic comment, but she understood it. Neither of her parents had made friends easily, and it was still a big joke between them. "Actually, I was at lunch with a guy."   
"Oooohhh!" the two of them commented as one, both with the phone between them.   
"Quests at work already." Seifer mumbled.   
She grinned inwardly. It was amazing how well things went over the phone compared to actually being there. "I think you may recognize his parents. Selphie and Irvine Kinneas."   
"Shit." Seifer commented. "He spawned."   
Squall laughed, almost uncomfortably. It was cruel... but it was funny. "I hope their son was civilized."   
"More so than I expected from your stories..." Kyrie trailed off, reliving the lunch. "Well spoken and intelligent."   
Seifer chuckled. "That's not Irvine's son."   
She let herself laugh. "I wonder if he'd say the same about me and Rinoa."   
There was a hush on the other end. It was still a very touchy subject. "Good point." Squall said at last.   
Somehow that was incredibly funny. She could barely catch her breath as she was certain her parents were exchanging looks. It was beyond comedy, it was sick family history. When she finally stopped giggling, she continued, "So far so good. No random shootings or anything."   
"Good." Squall announced seriously. "And the food?"   
"Uh..." she tried to come up with a word for it. "Meaty."   
That's when Seifer lost it to laughter. She just knew Squall was glaring at him. She could _feel_ the glare over the phone. She added, "Well, that's the best description I can come up with."   
"Doesn't seem like the food has changed much." Squall commented, feeling almost sick to his stomach. One can only take so many hot dogs. Except Zell. For all they knew, Zell had finally died of a hot dog overdose, or blood loss trying to get one directly into a vein. Somehow that made him smile quite widely.   
It was a question he only asked out of politeness, next. He didn't get along with his father well, but he knew Kyrie seemed okay with him. "How's Laguna?"   
She smirked, knowing full well it was forced manners. "Oh, he's good. He's the reason I was late this morning."   
"I told you that you should have... waited to see him..." Squall trailed off, not entirely into the conversation.   
Kyrie immediately sensed the "trouble". "I guess I'll be going, then..."   
She heard a light smacking sound and a humorous "Ow!" in the background before Squall spoke again. "That's alright."   
"Did you two always fuck like this when I was around?"   
The question was so point blank that Squall lost all coherent thought at that moment. His daughter certainly had a variety of... interesting aspects. "Not... often."   
"I figured that much." She tried very hard not to make any further comments. No double meaning stick-up-ass jokes or anything. It was tempting, though.   
"What's that supposed to mean?" Seifer joked.   
As she opened her mouth to make another sarcastic quip, the PA system interrupted with its goddamn three chimes. "Will all students not already in the assembly hall please report directly there. Will all students not already there please report to the assembly hall."   
"I guess I've been called away." Kyrie commented. At least that seemed to mean that this assembly wouldn't take too long. She hoped.   
"I suppose you'll want to be a good student and obey." Seifer announced innocently.   
"All I've ever dreamed." She mumbled. "I'll call tomorrow. Really."   
"Damn well better." Seifer agreed. "We love you, Ky."   
"And I love you, too. The both of you. Really. I mean that." She overcompensated on purpose. She had Squall's deadpan sarcasm down.   
He noticed. "We'll keep your room open and some chili in the fridge."   
"Sweet." She couldn't help but smile at that. "Talk to you later, guys." 

She didn't spot Rodger on the way into the hall this time. She assumed she'd meet up with him later, of course, but it would have been nice to wave to him at least. To see a look of terror on his face, maybe. Ah well. Such is life, so she thought.   
Lucky for her, the seated audience was very well spread out this time. She had no need to sit next to anyone. And, perhaps by some instinct, no one sat all that close to her.   
A man who was clearly the Assistant Headmaster stepped onto the stage; the same suit as the Headmaster, the same tie, but this man wore glasses and was about half the weight of the "real thing". There was no lighting cues for him, only the clearing of his throat, over and over.   
Kyrie instantly disliked him. Maybe the Headmaster had some sort of merit somewhere, but this guy... this guy looked rather... sleazy.   
"Alright, alright!" he finally yelled over the conversation. "I am Assistant Headmaster Evaan."   
Giggles responded to that statement. As Kyrie was sure happened every time he introduced himself.   
"Silence, silence!" he called out again. Finally getting most of the attention, he placed the green folder in his grasp on the floor to free his hands. Predictably, he placed them behind his back like the man he was all too obviously trying to emulate.   
"You were all assigned only two classes this quarter. This is because we want all students to be able to go at their own pace. If you think you can take more next quarter, you are welcome to schedule it. Some students have taken up to eight courses at a time on various schedules."   
_Oh joy. Eight._ She thought, trying not to make her poisonous glances too obvious.   
"Each of you will be receiving a portfolio this evening in your mail boxes." He reached down to pick up the green folder, showing it off. "These are very important. Eventually these will be used to schedule your classes and keep your grades, goals, and requirements. So tonight I want you all to arrange your _lives_ by arranging your portfolios!"   
He waved the green folder around again though it were a starting flag. "Classes start tomorrow. Don't be late. The rest of the day is yours to explore, so long as you accomplish this task. Now you may be dismissed."   
Short, but not short enough. Far from sweet. But to the point. Kyrie darted out as fast as she was allowed with the stream of people in front of her. She could already sense a little... chaos. 

"Kyrie!" Rodger called, seeing her wading through the river of students, all rushing out of the Assembly Hall like it were blazing with the fires of hell.   
She waved him over and waited for him to maneuver through a bunch of gallaxy-like masses of girls; the kind of which always liked to make themselves a nuisance in hallways. "That sucked." She commented right away.   
He laughed, nodding. "Yes, it did." Then he took a deep breath, deciding to just go for it. "Uh... what are you planning to do now?"   
She grinned. "Go back to my room and," she tried her best to mimic the tripe she had just been forced to endure, "Arrange my _life_ by arranging my portfolio." She left him hanging intentionally, waiting to see if he'd press the subject. When he didn't, she invited, almost under her breath, "Would you like to join me?"   
His eyes widened considerably. "I... may I?"   
"I'm not a slut, though." She joked evenly.   
He cursed himself for blushing, even though none of the people around him seemed to notice. "I didn't... I wasn't..."   
"Oh, I know." She assured. "Call this... the trial by fire method of friendship."   
How... interesting. "What do you mean?"   
She smiled, albeit thinly. "Bluntly? I'm seeing what it takes to scare you off so I don't wind up wasting time and effort on you if you're just going to bail on me later."   
His stomach tightened. Perhaps he'd underestimated her friendship quota. He waited until they were well into the dorm hallways before he decided he wanted to know the answer. "How many people stayed?"   
Her slightly sadistic smile showed absolutely no sorrow over anything that might have been. "You'd be the first. Besides my parents, of course. But they don't have much of a choice. Imagine the scandal if I were given up for adoption."   
Considering her general attitude, maybe the response wasn't much of a surprise in the end. But it was a little jarring.   
"No pressure." She laughed, lightly tapping his side with her elbow.   
For some reason, that wasn't exactly what he was feeling. He wasn't sure _what_ he was feeling, but nervousness was in there somewhere. Pressure, though? Nah. Not really.   
Room 122. She tapped the unlock code into the panel and the door whooshed open. She entered immediately, standing aside for her newfound companion to follow.   
At that moment in time, he wasn't sure he should. It was far from appropriate. It was far from feeling right... well, that wasn't true. It _shouldn't_ have felt right. But he went in, anyway.   
Kyrie flipped a number of light switches on, not quite aware of exactly how the room looked, herself. She hadn't had the chance to explore, yet. Let alone unpack.   
"Shit..." Rodger commented, immediately covering his mouth. "I mean, uh... well, you have your own bathroom."   
"Neat, huh?" she grinned, placing her suitcases by the closet door to remind her. "I am immune to bad language, by the way. I consider them... highly descriptive words."   
"Oh, good." He replied. "I couldn't really hold them back if I wanted to." A skill not so remarkable that his father had passed onto him.   
Even she was still a bit surprised by the place. She knew she had a desk, but she didn't notice how nice and new it was until she was staring at it in full brightness. "Uh... have a seat." She suggested. Herself, she took the bed. It seemed the most appropriate spot. Especially considering there was no other furniture in the room save a chest of drawers.   
With a swallow, Rodger pulled the chair out and sat across from her. How would he start this conversation? "So..." he began, but stopped short as soon as he looked up. His gaze was met with her sharp eyes, ready and waiting. "You know what I'm going to ask, don't you?"   
She knew alright. It was time to be confronted about Seifer. "Yes." She kept it simple.   
"It's not like that." He tried to convince her. "I just... don't know a lot about it. I don't want to insult your family or anything."   
Kyrie was silent. Maybe it was true. Maybe he did have good intentions. Even after she'd revealed her trial by fire method, he'd stayed. She supposed she could give him the benefit of the doubt to find out for sure. She sat next to him on the edge of the bed and met his eyes calmly. "Okay, shoot."   
It came out pretty quickly, like he'd been wanting to ask for quite a while. "Are they both still living together?"   
"Yeah." She kept it short, waiting for the bomb to hit.   
"Good. Good." He paused, trying to think of something nice to say. About anything.   
"I don't suppose your parents are thrilled that I'm here with you." She interrupted.   
He shrugged lightly. "I don't know where my father is, actually. I haven't seen him in a while. But Mom... Selphie... she's okay with it. She said there's no reason why we can't... you know."   
"Get along." Kyrie finished hollowly. "Sorry. I've heard stuff like this before is all."   
"Yeah, I imagine." He paused, shifting uncomfortably. "She... kind of wanted me to tell you, though... that she knows where Zell is."   
Ah, Zell. Many a fond memory she'd heard. But he broke Quistis' heart and wanted nothing more to do with anyone that supported Seifer. He'd disappeared shortly before she was born. "So how's he doing?"   
Rodger sighed. From what his parents told him, it'd been bad blood all around for a very long time. He assumed Kyrie, having lived with the former Sorceress' Knight nearly all of her life, knew all about it. "He's alright, I guess. He's back in Balamb, working as a mechanic. His mother died a few weeks ago, though."   
Kyrie was silent. She didn't know what to say. But she felt that Squall at the very least ought to know where Zell was. Not that they would ever talk again, but it was one of those things she felt he would like her to tell him no matter how much it could hurt. They were really close once. As were Zell and Seifer, but that was kind of different. Especially near the end. "Would you like to meet for dinner at, say... seven?" she asked suddenly.   
Rodger looked at her as though she were trying to pull some cruel practical joke. But the eyes that met his were sincere. "S-sure. Here?"   
"If you wouldn't mind." Kyrie agreed. She had plenty to do until then.   
"You're going to call home, aren't you?" it wasn't really a question. More of an assurance.   
"They'd want to know this." She murmured. "And then we can forget over something that smells like pork."   
That made Rodger smile a little. "Alright. Seven it is."   
Kyrie nodded and watched Rodger get up, wave, and walk out. _What a wonderful day,_ her sarcastic mind stung. In truth, it was a hell of a lot better than she had expected. And that was mostly thanks to Rodger. Amazing, in a way. He not only stuck around, but he hadn't said a damn bad thing about her family. That was kind of odd. 

She wanted to wait a bit before she called. Whether it was to consider what to say, or more just because of her compulsiveness to get everything put away, she really didn't know. A combination of both things, most likely. She took her sweet time unpacking, rearranging, and making notes of things she would more than likely need to buy to make the place more "homey". Like soap that didn't smell like sulfur, first of all.   
By the time she'd even thought about calling her parents again, she'd been through every last inch of the place. All things put away, all hidden things exposed, noted, and rearranged. She even heard the sliding of papers into her mailbox, but waited until the footsteps were far enough away where she could open the door without conversation.   
"Oh, portfolio." She commented. Hers was a blue folder. _So there, Evaan._ Flipping through the pages revealed that the booklet was really nothing more than forms. Practice forms, official forms, extra forms.   
She glanced at the clock, halfway amused. Quarter to six, already. She had no clue how she'd actually managed to waste that much time. But at least everything was done. And, obviously, now was the time to make that call. She wasn't quite looking forward to it, but she knew she had to do it.   
With a heavy sigh, she sat at her desk and picked up the phone. She smiled slightly as she vividly pictured the Headmaster questioning her outside calls, dialing.   
The middle and end of a yawn before an actual voice answered. "Hello?"   
She took a preparatory breath. "Hey, Dad. I didn't disturb anything, did I?"   
Silence. "No, Seifer's taking a shower, and I was reading. Is something wrong?"   
What a question. "Yes and no. Not here. I'm good."   
The tone in her voice concerned him; something from the past cornered him like a psychic impression. He just had a feeling about the impending conversation. "Go on."   
She knew it'd be painful. But she'd try to make it as dull that as possible. "I'll just say that it's about Zell. You tell me if you want to hear more."   
He sighed. "Yeah. Everything."   
Kyrie took a deep breath. "Rodger said Selphie 'sort of wanted me to know' that he's been in Balamb for a while now. He's a mechanic there. His mother died a few weeks ago..." What more was she supposed to say? "And that's all I know."   
There was a dead silence. Right as Kyrie was about to question if her dad was still there, he grunted softly. "Did you tell Quistis?"   
"I couldn't possibly." She answered. She didn't know Quistis extremely well, but she knew enough to understand that Zell had done some pretty permanent damage to her emotional balance. He'd completely abandoned her for just keeping in touch with her parents.   
"Probably better that way." Squall agreed.   
"I'm sorry, Dad." She apologized honestly. "Didn't want to say anything, but I thought you'd want to know."   
"I do." He assured gently. "I do, really. It's just kind of sudden." There was another long pause. "What are you doing tonight?"   
_What an odd question to ask your daughter. Well, when she didn't usually _do_ anything._ She knew what he was after, though. She was almost sorry she wanted to answer truthfully. "I'm having dinner with Rodger."   
Another long, somewhat awkward pause. "When are you coming to visit?"   
Regardless of what had just transpired, she laughed. She couldn't help it. "Friday, if I can. To spend the weekend." It was only two days away.   
"Good." Honest enough. "I guess I better let you get ready for your big date."   
It was strange to hear Squall tease her playfully. It just didn't seem like him. She was glad for any interaction, though. "Yeah. Gotta get all whored up."   
There was a surprised chuckle on the other side. "Not too much, Ky."   
Natural. Already it sounded natural. That was so nice. She almost didn't want to hang up at all. "I won't. Not too much. And I'll have a weapon."   
Another quick laugh. "Take care, now."   
"I love you, Dad."   
"I love you too, Kyrie."   
"Tell Fa-- Seifer that I love him, too. If you tell him anything."   
One short pause. "I will. Goodnight."   
She hung up first, a little dazed from the conversation in general. It was weird. And she was in a whole new world now. She had a little over an hour to get ready for a late night dinner date in a Garden cafeteria. How romantic. How... devastatingly romantic. 


	4. Chapter 4

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. **WARNING** This chapter contains frank sexual discussion. If you are uncomfortable with homosexuality or kink, just go away, alright?   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 4   
by Orin Drake 

She knew she'd packed that shirt for something. Why Seifer had chosen to buy it for her in the first place was a mystery. A father wants to protect his daughter, not put her on display. Then again, she was never the normal girl. No boyfriends, not much care in dressing, and no one to impress. It well could have been a gift of wishful thinking.   
Pulling the shirt off of the hanger, she turned it around several times. There was a dull, silken shimmer to it; not too demanding of attention, but a fabric that would inspire someone to think it was nice, at least. Not expensive, just nice. There was a difference. It was a burgundy-crimson much darker than that of her eyes, with a form-fitting hug to it and tight sleeves that were slit on the underside three inches above the wrist to rest open. There was a slight collar to it, just to hug the back of her neck and let her hair slide freely, and the front was lace-up with a black ribbon as opposed to buttons or snaps. But the real feature of this shirt was the back; a large diamond of fabric was completely missing nearly from neck to waist, shoulder to shoulder. It actually looked more like a cross than a diamond, the sides of the shape moved subtly inward. That's why she loved it. And possibly shy she'd never worn it before.   
While she didn't have a full-length mirror in her room here, she didn't need one. It _felt_ good, therefore it worked well. Comfort was of main concern. The shock value was added benefit. With a slightly sadistic smile, she unbuckled her new belt and slid her hand along it's length; and discovered something. She certainly hadn't seen it before. Upon closer inspection, it was pretty clear why; this was a gunbelt. Each bullet compartment was carefully hidden on the inside of the belt with almost invisible stitching and extra thin leather panels. Ingenious. And really very simple. Why the idea hadn't seemed to occur to her before wasn't something she liked to think about. It made her feel... stupid.   
The belt was to stay on through the evening, that much was decided. She couldn't help but wonder if Cloud had known all of its secrets when he'd given it to her. And then, along that line of thought, where had he gotten it in the first place? It wasn't a fashion belt. It was too useful to be just another pretty accessory for someone. The next time she visited her grandfather, she'd make it a point to ask. But politely. Gift horses and so on.   
Lastly, the boots. She only had one pair of footwear. There was never a need for anything else. Sure, they were getting old and ragged, but the leather still held. She'd had to glue the soles back together a number of times, but they were still... relatively solid. Comfortable, at least.   
One last run of her fingers through her hair, and she was set. This would probably be the first date in history that involved a gunblade every step of the way. But, patting the precious weapon at her side, she doubted her new friend would expect anything less. She kinda liked that Rodger.   
After one more satisfactory christening of her very own bathroom, she waited at her desk, staring blankly at a constantly moving screen saver. It wasn't TV, but it was just as good. Better plot than most shows, anyway. The characters, though... About thirty seconds past seven (not that she was counting), there was a knock at her door.   
_How droll_, she thought, getting up to answer it. _A knock instead of that annoying buzzer. Another plus point._   
On the other side of the door stood her date, looking exactly the same as he had earlier. Well, nearly. The jeans were a little less faded than his others, and the black shirt was actually what one would consider black. But that was him, alright. Before she had the chance to make a teasing comment, he handed her something wrapped in clear plastic.   
She took it graciously, laughing. "A muffin."   
Rodger grinned shyly. "They don't sell candy in the cafeteria." As he finally had the opportunity to notice her new shirt, he surreptitiously tried to snap his jaw shut. It fit her well. Really, really well. There was a pleasant surprise in that, alright.   
"Shall we?" his date invited, trying to get him to back up so she could walk out the door.   
"Yes." He agreed instantly. "Yes, let's."   
She slipped out of her doorway and used the lock code without turning her back to him. She wanted to keep the surprise until the last possible minute. It'd come as a shock in one way or another, she hoped. She did live to surprise. With a smile and a nod, she indicated that she was ready to go.   
He had no intentions of bringing her anywhere but the Garden's cafeteria. And he felt a little foolish for that, especially since it was Kyrie that had made dinner plans. "I, uh... I'm sorry I don't really have the... money at the moment to take you out somewhere..." he started to apologize.   
"Don't worry about it." She cut him off. "Me either. Besides, I don't really like fancy places."   
That probably shouldn't have surprised him. It didn't, actually. It was the fact she'd said it straight out that was a little surprising. But refreshing. They began to walk.   
The hallways were amazingly empty for that time of night in Garden. There were students here and there in the hallways, but only small groups. Very few were playing cards, and fewer still were talking in loud or joyful voices. A hush seemed to have fallen as darkness overwhelmed the outside; it was the first time many of them had been away from home. Perhaps the majority of the new students (and even some of the old) were just spending time adjusting to their environments. Or catching up on sleep. Either way, Kyrie hoped it meant a pleasant, relatively quiet cafeteria atmosphere.   
In a vain attempt to be a gentleman, Rodger slithered his arm around her shoulder. It was at that point he discovered the other jaw-dropping feature of this particular shirt. He let the curse forming on his lips slip into an inaudible sigh.   
But Kyrie felt his chest heave. "You like it?" she asked under her breath.   
Caught now, wasn't he? "Yes." He admitted. "It's... very nice." Several questions and a number of comments came to mind... but, wisely, he decided to keep them there. He was not about to screw up a good thing.   
They rode the "cafeteria express" escalator up two floors with almost no one around. There were a few instructors wandering, and a couple of older looking students in the odd corner with books. For the most part, though, it seemed even more abandoned. Private. And that was very nice.   
Even the cafeteria, the center of the student world, had an unnatural hush to it. There were some people having dinner or dessert, but the voices were low and located more or less all to one side. Excellent for the anti-socials who chose to sit on the other side of the room. They glanced at one another and nodded before making their way to the most distant table possible.   
Finishing her duties for the night, Quistis raised an eyebrow and approached, having caught a glance at what Kyrie was wearing. Lovely though it was, there was quite the obvious exposed back. That wasn't necessarily against any of the rules, but it wasn't presented as _particularly_ okay, either.   
Kyrie looked behind her as she heard footsteps, noting the look on her aunt's face. "Quistis, this is the wildest thing I'm ever going to do. Be thankful."   
The instructor chuckled, nodding. "I think I might need your assurance on that..."   
Growing up with Seifer had its merits, indeed. Kyrie assumed the suave calmness he'd more or less accidentally taught her. "Quisty, I'm an angel. I think all of us know that."   
Her aunt's smirk certainly spoke volumes. "Have a good time."   
Kyrie grinned comically and held two thumbs up. After Quistis was out of sight, she turned back to Rodger. "You heard the lady."   
"I'll do what I can." He returned, indicating the chairs. As his date sat, he grunted with satisfaction and took his own seat. It was a nice place and a nice time to sit and shoot the breeze. "What'd they say?"   
She knew instantly what he meant. "I only talked to Squall." She paused, trying to sum up the experience. "He asked what I was doing tonight, and when I was going to visit them."   
He cringed. "Ouch."   
"Bad blood lasts forever." She murmured, waving down the chick with the tray of cups who seemed to have nothing to do but wander around the tables. But hey, as long as she was paid for it. After she laid two cups with ice in front of the pair and left, Kyrie continued. "What are you hungry for?"   
"Pork or pork byproduct. Or maybe another meat that smells like pork." He paused as the water girl came back to fill their cups, then wandered away once more. "You?"   
"Fried chicken. Hold the pork." She leaned back and tapped her fingernails against the cold glass a couple of times before completely falling silent.   
"Good luck."   
"Thank you. And what were you doing in that time?"   
A mildly uncomfortable look passed through him, but it was lost within seconds. Something about her just invited him to open up. "Thinking about calling my mother."   
Not that she meant to pry, but she assumed that she may as well. She had nothing to lose, and assumed that he probably wouldn't care. At least, she'd soon find out. "Did you?"   
"No."   
Short, straight, to the point. She felt a kindred spirit, so to speak. "This family guilt shit is complete crap, isn't it?"   
"Yes." Rodger leaned in a little closer. "Yes it is."   
She shook her head. The next generation sure did suck. She held firm to the belief that it wasn't supposed to suck as much as it did. That maybe somewhere it all went wrong, and some day it'd get better. _Where is the fucking happy ending, already?_   
"Would you mind if I asked what happened to your mother?" he nearly whispered. He wasn't sure how she'd take it, but he suspected she wouldn't mind discussing. They'd asked each other some personal things already, right?   
Kyrie grunted quietly. "She killed herself a couple of years ago." Right after Edea disappeared, in fact. They always wondered if the two events were connected, but nothing had been discovered since. It was practically a forgotten history, anymore.   
He hadn't heard about that, surprisingly. Maybe his parents figured it would cause a lot more trouble than it was worth to have breached the subject in the first place. "Oh. I'm sorry."   
"Yeah..." she paused, wondering what kind of reaction he was expecting. It was probably nothing like the one he was going to get. "Well, I didn't know her. And from what I've heard of her, I'm okay with that." And so the story goes that she left her powers with some little girl on the street and slashed her wrists. Probably the most mental Sorceress in history. And that was saying a lot.   
It was... really weird, how comfortable he felt with her. Even after that topic. Even after her response. Maybe it was the family history they shared without ever really actively participating. He'd never felt that comfortable with his own family, let alone some stranger indirectly related to his parents' past. And a _chick_ on top of that.   
She glanced at his eyes as though skimming through a book. "What do you know about my parents?"   
He blinked, the question seeming to have fallen from the sky. Just as he was about to answer, the water girl came back. Only this time she had a pad of paper and a pencil.   
"And what will you have?" she asked, almost sickeningly perky.   
Kyrie tipped her chair back just a bit, pondering. "What are you serving?"   
"Sandwiches." The girl replied as though the answer itself was bright and shiny.   
The antisocial pair exchanged glances. "Two, then?" Kyrie asked uncertainly.   
"Yep." Rodger responded without enthusiasm.   
"Coming up!" the girl scribbled something resembling a wavy line on the pad and dashed away.   
"Ick." Kyrie commented under her breath.   
Rodger grinned. It shifted into a less interesting expression when he remembered her question, trying to find an answer for it. "Not much." He decided upon. "I don't really know that much."   
She continued looking at him, holding him to a better answer. Not that she wanted specifics or anything, but she was curious as to what he'd actually been told, versus what he had overheard.   
He swallowed, fully aware the subject was not going to drop so quickly. "I know about their past. But I guess everyone does." He paused to lean in a little once again, not wanting the entire room to be able to hear him (even if they were actively discussing who was cute all the way on the other side). "All I really knew was... well, lots of people felt a little betrayed."   
Oh, that spoke volumes, alright. But it did thoroughly answer her question. He didn't know any more than anyone else in the whole goddamn world. That was a little comforting, actually. She nodded. "Yeah, that sums it up."   
"I'm not trying to be a jerk." He felt he had to assure her. "I just... that's all I know..."   
"Don't worry about it." She legitimately tried to put his fears to rest. "It's touchy no matter who says what."   
He felt like an idiot when the next thought came to mind. But he felt that he should say it. Strange or crude as it may sound, he felt the need to express the thought in all it's unrefined glory. "I think it must be... really hard for you. In the middle and all."   
"Well, yeah." She admitted, getting completely serious for a moment. "Squall's my dad, in every sense of the word. Seifer is part of my life, too. He's my father. All my life, I've seen him torture himself over his stupid decisions. It's not like he's proud of it. And I'm certainly not embarrassed to be his daughter." She paused reflectively. "He worries, though. He doesn't want me to use his name or wear the bloodcross." Seriously in need of a diversion, she shifted into a little bit of humor again. "Could you imagine if I walked in here with a bloodcross jacket or something?"   
He smiled meekly and nodded, just glad she wasn't pissed at him. At least, she didn't seem to be. "I... kind of understand. I mean, it's not the same thing. My father's just a world renowned..." he made sarcastic quote marks with his fingers, "'Ladies man'. But I get it."   
The conversation was once again interrupted by the bubbly waitress/water girl. She placed plates identical to the ones at lunch in front of them and made a quick departure back to the tables where people received her warmly.   
There was a moment of silence; probably for their appetites. "I may lose a lot of weight here." Kyrie stated. "As if there were much more to lose."   
Her date regarded her quietly. He'd almost had a heart attack, or at least a moment of devastation. For the glimmer of a second, she sounded just like every other girl. But then, thank the gods, she had amended her comment. "We might both die of hunger before the end of the week."   
"All the more reason to go home for the weekend." She agreed, oblivious to his thought process.   
There was a thought. Maybe he ought to take his mother up on that offer and go home, for the sole purpose of eating. He made a mental note to phone her up and "surprise" her tomorrow.   
Kyrie felt the need to check under the bread, just in case. Still looked and smelled like turkey. Somehow she was a lot less hungry than she was moments ago, however. Instead of showing the bravery she had at lunch, she began to pick only the chips.   
Rodger chuckled to himself, having similar plans. "I don't know. If all we eat are the chips, that solves the weight problem..."   
"Yeah." She agreed with a grin. "Then I can work on having something resembling muscle. Of course, they don't give you _many_ chips."   
Hm. Relaxed. This was an interesting feeling to have on a date. "I know it's a weird idea..." he suggested quietly, "But... do you want to go to the training center and shoot, maybe?"   
Kyrie carefully calculated her reaction. She didn't want to appear too thrilled. But she was glad for the suggestion. "I'd love to, actually."   


The way the Garden training center was set up, a new student's card could only get them into the beginner's room. Only after so many months and an experience test by an instructor in battle technique did one get to graduate into the intermediate room. Not that either of them minded that much; they weren't in for tooth and claw battles. Just practice. Maybe a little challenge. Anything but the typical date, perhaps.   
Rodger grinned at the protective, delicate treatment Kyrie's gunblade received. She grasped onto it though it were a wild animal, respectful but commanding, lifting it out of it's scabbard. The weapon was obviously of great importance; more obviously so when he saw the engraving on the blade. A gift from her parents, that much was clear. A symbol of all of her pride in her bloodline. Sans Rinoa's part in it, anyway.   
There was literally no one else around them in the grounds. Not even a licensed instructor hanging around, telling them what not to do. Certainly not that they minded. It was more blissful than the cafeteria they'd just evacuated from.   
"Just us and the monsters." Kyrie joked, kneeling to pull up her pant leg. She hadn't had the time to transfer her bullets to the belt yet, so they remained in their original place; strapped securely to her ankle. Quickly pulling six, she stood and proceeded to delicately spin the barrel out and load, one by one.   
Rodger hadn't wanted to stop by his dorm room to get his own rifle, due to having a roommate that he was certain would be very curious as to why he was shooting so late at night, "alone". He didn't feel like explaining. Luckily, he'd had no reason to worry; Kyrie insisted she stop back in her own room to grab a few extra bullets, and his roommate was dead asleep anyway. Things never seemed to work out so nicely for him before... but who was he to question the delicate and often sadistic workings of fate?   
Loading his rifle, he noticed his date's stance out of the corner of his eye. Carefully inspecting the straight edge and the sight. A wise decision. "My dad had a crooked sight once..." he murmured.   
She grinned, lowering her gunblade, satisfied with the continued accuracy. "So I hear. I don't know the details, but Seifer thought it was fucking hilarious."   
He chuckled. "Yeah, well, Pa sure didn't think it was that funny."   
She watched the way he smoothly spun the loaded weapon once around before grasping it firmly and cocking it. Very impressive. "Show off." She joked.   
Regardless of the light blush, there was a look of amused pride on his face. He hadn't _intended_ to show off. He was just used to spinning the damn thing before he started shooting. It was inborn by now; part of his consciousness. It was his "style". "Well, show me up, then." He challenged.   
Kyrie regarded him with a sly smile, resting her gunblade on her shoulder. "Now this is my idea of a nice evening."   
They passed nothing more than friendly challenges back and forth. Shoot this, kill that, aim for this and draw. It turned out to be excellent practice to get her bearings on her new weapon, fine tuning the accuracy and range. She grasped her gunblade, dug her heels into the dirt and squeezed that trigger; every time with the same enthusiasm. And once in a while, she'd just outright slash. Or, better yet, the slash-and-fire. Now that little move worked almost every time in the beginner's room.   
Rodger enjoyed watching the triumphant look on her face with every successful strike. Regardless of how many monsters went down, there wasn't an overconfidence there. More of an almost cynical waiting for something to go awry, actually. But there was still confidence in her motions and responses.   
After what really seemed like scant minutes, the monsters simply stopped coming. Some of them may have wised up. Kyrie waited another number of seconds, noting the complete and utter silence before lowering her weapon to the ground. "Wow. I think we ran out of supply."   
Her date nodded, taking another glance around to make sure they weren't being watched by anyone or anything. "Someone is going to be very pissed when they have to completely restock the room in the morning." He announced matter-of-factly.   
She smirked, thinking it safe enough to sheathe the gunblade; but she was still on her guard. She knew better, even among the "lower level" creatures. They could do damage. "They ought to be glad they have such fantastic marksmen in the Garden."   
He followed her lead, removing the last unfired shot from his rifle and placing it in his pocket. Out of instinct more than really wanting to know, he glanced at the digital clock near the door. "I suppose it's getting late." He sighed, honestly not ready to break off the date. He'd never had a more interesting night with a chick before. It was the most fun he'd ever had with a girl; which, perhaps given his expertise, wasn't saying much. Sure they didn't go anywhere or do a lot, but it was _fun_.   
She looked up at the clock. A little after 2 in the morning. "Wow. I guess so. We've got to rest up for more great assemblies."   
Rodger grunted in agreement. This time there was little hesitation. "Can I walk you home again?"   
"Sure. You can come in for a cocktail." She joked. She tried very, very hard to suppress the laughter threatening to make her seem like a pervert. She realized that her humor... "took time to appreciate".   


One more glance up and down the hall to make sure it was absolutely deserted, she locked the door behind her. "I have two places to sit. So feel free to use one."   
Rodger pondered his situation; desk chair, or bed. Was the bed too pretentious? Then, was the desk chair too stand-offish?   
Kyrie grinned at the intense look on his face. Solving his problem immediately, she sat on the bed and patted the wide open spot next to her.   
Thought more or less completely stopped from the time he'd seen her indication to the time he actually sat down. It couldn't have been any longer than a single second, but it sure as hell seemed like an eternity of space-like emptiness. And not of the worst kind, either. Now... how the hell should he start off? "So... did you have fun?" he prodded gently.   
She smiled thinly but genuinely at his effort. "Yes. I can honestly say that's the most fun I've ever had on a date."   
He beamed... and then realized something. "Have you... ever been on a date before?"   
Damn. Caught. "No." She didn't bother to hide the amusement. "But I can honestly say even if I had, it'd still be true."   
That was a good sign... right? "Well... good."   
Kyrie caught his attention with a playful smirk. "So... now what happens?"   
Alarms went off. Loaded question. But not necessarily in the worst of ways. Regardless of how comfortable he felt around her, he could feel his heartbeat spike. "I... uh... s-stuff."   
"If you don't mind me asking..." she got very close, lowering her voice, "What experience do you have on the... 'flavored' side of things?"   
Rodger blushed hard at her bluntness. He'd gotten the meaning right away. "My last girlfriend was... pretty freaky."   
She laughed. "How so?"   
He paused for a long time, wondering just how she'd react to talking so openly about these sorts of things. Then he remembered who her parents were. He supposed in one way or another, she'd probably been prepared for everything. Not to mention the fact _she'd_ brought it up in the first place. "Well, uh..." he blushed harder just thinking about it. "She liked... seeing two guys... go at it... in leather... and stuff...." He cleared his throat and looked away.   
Instead of being repulsed, she actually looked interested. "Hm. Never heard of that before."   
Something miraculous happened: he didn't feel awkward. Well, not _that_ awkward, anyway. "Yeah... she was a little obsessed."   
Kyrie raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "And what else did she teach you about?"   
The blush instantly returned. This may not be the most intelligent way to go about things, discussing sex with Squall Leonhart's daughter. And Seifer Almasy's daughter. In the boundaries of a Garden. At which her aunt was an instructor. In her private room. At this time of morning.   
"Don't tell me you're inexperienced." She teased delicately.   
The blush only got hotter. "I... uh... m-more or less... kind of."   
One corner of Kyrie's lip rose to expose a canine. She had a very devious look on her face. "Me too. For obvious reasons, I guess."   
A little bit of stealthy courage leapt to Rodger's heart. "Is _this_ trial by fire, too?"   
She laughed. "Might as well be." Her entire manner seemed to get a little more sadistically playful. "What turns you on?"   
The blush came back once again, with a vengeance. Did she expect him to tell her? Did she really _want_ to know? "I'll tell you... if you tell me first."   
"_This_ is trial by fire." She assured. It was only fair, however. She sat way back, using her elbows to support her as she thought. Default answer to test the waters. "I guess I'll never know until I try it."   
There was just something about her that gave him the strength to continue this conversation. He drawled slightly, "Oh no. That's the easy way out."   
She glanced at him, almost seeming to study him as she thought. "Alright. I'll put it this way... romance only goes so far."   
He chuckled, a seductive gleam in the corner of his eyes. He assumed he understood what she meant, but he wasn't sure. And she hadn't completely answered the question yet, on top of that. "Yes?"   
"A little S & M and some light bondage, then." She finished simply. "You?"   
By now, he knew very well that he shouldn't have been shocked. He was not, in fact. But he was a little taken aback by how absolutely bluntly she'd stated it; he wasn't used to a girl without games. His comfort level was dropping fast, but he held on for the ride. "I, uh... can't say I'm in any disagreement..."   
Kyrie smirked playfully. "It's a trust issue most of all, I guess."   
His heart was beating out of his chest. But this time he actually wanted to act on that response. "So..." he tried, delicately, "Do you trust me?"   
Oh, that look. It resembled shock. _Resembled_, but was not. Some kindred to it, maybe, but... She sat up, getting just slightly closer to him in the process. "Is there a reason I _shouldn't_ trust you?" she asked in a low tone, a sadistically gleeful look across her face.   
Wow. But Rodger's adrenaline (not to mention testosterone) was pumping too fast to pause and consider that remark. He'd liked to have answered her in some verbal way. Really. But there were no words to suit the moment.   
As much as there was a purely sexual attraction here, there was something else. Kyrie was not a slut, any more than Rodger appreciated the type. Sex was nice, sex was good, and there was obviously attraction. But there was actually something else, too. A... spark, if you will. Something absolutely shared without having to be spoken. And, frankly, it was kind of scary. But neither one of them really cared at that point. They weren't planning on going all the way. At least, not now. They just wanted to... feel around a bit.   
The first kiss wasn't hardly as messy or awkward as Kyrie had always thought it would be. It was just... natural. She and Rodger had just happened to lean their heads in at the same time and... there you have it.   
He pulled back for a moment, as if he'd just remembered something. "That was... alright, right?"   
How sweet, really. Kyrie grinned and pulled him softly back into another kiss, quite a bit longer this time. She felt a slightly unsure hand press against the small of her back and smiled into his lips. Amazing what a little dirty conversation and a first kiss could do.   
Jokingly she thrust her hand down the back of his pants, but his quiet moan caused her to decide to keep it there. He pulled back just to look at her. Just to look into her eyes, to see if there was a way to look past them and deeper. To grant permission to go a little further.   
...and then the door buzzer sounded. The sudden influx of noise startled the two of them apart like light scattered roaches, and they looked at one another in surprise. It was three in the morning for crissakes. No one ought to be up at that hour. Not even security.   
"It's Quistis." Kyrie whispered.   
"How do you know?" Rodger quickly stood and straightened up.   
"Because my dad called her to check on me." She murmured.   
To his own astonishment, a grin broke across his face. "And how do you know that?"   
She glanced over, a smile hidden somewhere in her eyes. "Because I know how his sick little mind works." She threw him a book and waved in the general direction of her desk before straightening her hair. With no more warning, she opened the door and hoped she was fully presentable.   
It was Quistis alright. "Just stopping by to check on you, Kyrie." She announced with a little too much authority. "May I come in?"   
What was she going to say? No? "Of course, Quisty." She stepped aside.   
Quistis looked uninterested enough, but she knew better. Rodger still had a creeping blush on his face. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head, trying very hard to stop herself from smiling. "I bet your parents wouldn't appreciate this, young lady." She cleared her throat, desperately trying to be serious. "I thought I had your assurance."   
To her own surprise, Kyrie looked a little astounded herself. Maybe this romance thing had its merits somehow after all. "Powerful stuff, this."   
Quistis couldn't help it. She covered her mouth but the laughter still escaped triumphantly.   
Kyrie stood at weak attention with her hands behind her back, fighting to retain absolute composure. A smile did crack through, but that didn't really incriminate her. "Forty lashes, is it?"   
Quistis straightened up and shook her finger, still fighting back laughter. "Use discretion, young lady."   
"I will take your birds and bees speech to heart." Kyrie assured, dropping her head so that her hair covered the deviously growing smile.   
"Your father could kick all of our asses." Quistis joked. She knew Kyrie well enough to know she wouldn't let it get "that far". At least, not without proper health and protection precautions. But she still felt she had to be a slightly motherly figure in this instance. Even if she did find it really funny.   
"None of you need worry." Kyrie assured, _feeling_ Rodger's intense blush from across the room.   
Quistis nodded. "But I must do my duty. So why don't you two say goodnight."   
"Thank you, may I have another..." Kyrie murmured as she walked her aunt back outside the door.   
Quistis grinned, keeping her voice low. "Is it safe to say you have a boyfriend, then?"   
Kyrie chuckled darkly. "Yeah, I think so."   
The instructor crossed her arms and nodded. "I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. You better be good."   
"Always, Quisty." Kyrie smiled. "Do tell me I can accompany him to his room for a goodnight kiss at least."   
"And that's _it_." Quistis tried to be firm. In truth, she was thrilled. About damn time one of her match makings panned out. And for her niece, of all people... "Good night. Both of you." She grinned and walked down the hall.   
Kyrie glanced into her room, seeing Rodger with the remnants of a blush still on his face, getting up to go back to his roommate's snores. _Well, that was a fun experience..._   


The loud, grating sound of snoring erupted from the door as it slid open. Rodger cringed a little, still unused to the sound. At least it would assure the privacy of their conversation. "I'd invite you in, but..." he joked.   
Kyrie waited for the last snore to die down before she attempted to respond. "Makes me glad to be spoiled."   
He grinned. "Well, I... guess I'll see you tomorrow."   
"For lunch, at least." Kyrie agreed.   
He leaned in close to her ear, taking a large chunk of his courage to speak. "I'm kind of disappointed she didn't choose the forty lashes."   
"Ooohh." She responded as quietly and flatly as she possibly could. Kinky. She kinda liked that. She woke quickly from her mental pictures and allowed herself a rather vicious grin. "Damn, boy."   
He used his best dashing smile on her. "Just a thought."   
"One that will keep me coming back." She added playfully, but sincerely.   
Oh good, he hadn't scared her off. Though he was pretty certain it would have taken quite a bit more to have done that. "One last kiss for the night?"   
"No need to ask so nicely." She grinned almost viciously, silencing any response he had with his very request. It was slow, sweet, and orderly. Quite nice, really.   
But Rodger decided, just for the time being, to take her words to heart. Certainly there wasn't much they could get away with at this point in time, but there was nothing wrong with a kiss in the hallway, outside his door. Without warning, he gently tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her in again, the kiss this time leaving just a little sting.   
_...whoah..._ "Fast learner." She complimented quietly.   
He smiled widely. "One more thing, though."   
Kyrie raised her eyebrow just slightly, wondering what the hell else this boy was capable of getting away with in a Garden hallway. She sure as hell didn't expect what was coming, not in a million years or sordid guesses; he just hugged her. It was nothing super-nova romantic, but it wasn't a courtesy hug, either. It was just... really nice.   
"See you tomorrow." He squeezed gently, then released. He wasn't really sure _what_ had driven him to do that, but he wasn't about to deny the instinct to do so. He'd already let go of a hell of a lot he'd always held back, so why hold back something so small and simple as a hug?   
"Definitely." She responded, her hands lingering over his arms for just a moment. More sparks had flown with that hug than with even the kiss; they were different sparks, though. Just as wonderfully intense, but... different. Familiar, desired, and yet... strange. But she didn't want to start thinking all of this right in front of his door. Not when his roommate had begun snoring even louder, threatening to wake up everyone in Garden. "Lunch, at least."   
"You bet." Rodger agreed instantly. That strange little electrical bolt had gone through him, as well. But the entire thought process would probably have to wait until after the snoring was over. Whenever that happened.   


She laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The thought that kept persisting; _That was so strange. But good. But strange._ If he'd hoped to accomplish her continuous thought of him, he had succeeded more than his wildest dreams. She'd have to talk to that boy at lunch. 


	5. Chapter 5

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. **REMINDER** Just wanted to make sure people knew that I uploaded chapters 4 and 5 at the same time. So, if you haven't read 4 yet, do so. Or this won't make sense. Like it would anyway, but... y'know.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 5   
by Orin Drake 

Ah, first day of class. What a... hollow joy. It wasn't really even "class". It was still orientation week, so it was just "sit on your ass and talk to your peers while the teachers decide how stupid you all are". Not that they ought to publicize that. It just sounds degrading.   
It was not a joy getting up in a new, strange place. She'd made sure to wake plenty early enough to find everything she needed in a sleepy haze; shower, towel, clothes, toothbrush. She ran her tongue over the front of her teeth; oh good, she'd remembered the toothbrush. It was a difficult thing to get to sleep the night before, for some reason. She'd been out of breath, her heart fluttering, her muscles tense but numb... it'd been weird. Of course, late to sleep meant way too damn early to rise. She had to check several times just to make sure she'd remembered all of her clothes. That wouldn't have been so easily tolerated, surely...   
As she walked into her assigned classroom, she was greeted at the front of the room by none other than a smiling Quistis. Walking by the front desk, she whispered jokingly, "You're not my math instructor too, right?"   
Quistis winked. "I _wasn't_, but maybe I'll look into it now. Someone has to keep you in line." She pointed very subtly near the back of the room, where Rodger, of all people, sat. "Mr. Kinneas seems to share your current classroom schedule."   
Kyrie looked at her aunt for a long period of time, completely blank. "Let me know who I have to thank."   
The Instructor beamed and nodded, but said nothing. Young love needed as much constant pressure as it did space, perhaps.   
Kyrie made eye contact before she sat next to him, seeing his expression go from bored to entertained almost instantly. "Are you already stalking me?"   
He grinned slightly. "Not yet."   
_Oh, a threat. Or a promise._ She attempted to keep a devious expression at bay as the bell rang.   


"One class should not be three hours long." Rodger stated definitely, trying to find a way for them both to get on the escalator at the same time without getting crushed or shoved.   
Seeing an opportunity, she darted on beside him. "Yes, that was a little insane. Even if it was with Quistis."   
"I don't think I can take three hours of history and government right after breakfast. Or right before lunch." He continued, getting a bad feeling about his grades already.   
"You're not the only one." Kyrie added with a shudder. This damn well better be a fast-moving semester. "Good thing we don't have to _learn_ anything until Monday, though."   
"But we have to fill out forms." He stated, as though the world were ending. "That's like... homework on the first day."   
She couldn't stop herself from smirking. Luckily, the escalator was at the top, diverting their conversation for a moment. "Gives us an excuse to meet for homework." She suggested, ever so helpfully.   
"Oh, good one." He glanced into the cafeteria, seeing the table they'd been sitting at the night before was empty.   
The same old maid from lunch the day before wandered by, placing trays with sandwiches that well could have been theirs from last night in front of them, then hobbled away. They looked at one another blankly.   
"I'm not going to survive this." Kyrie finally spoke quietly.   
"You're definitely not alone." Rodger assured, sitting back and staring at his "meal".   
She delicately lifted the bread, discovering this time it was some sort of ham-like product. This was funny. Very funny. "They finally served us pork." Before she could make a stinging quip about the quality of the food (not to mention the chefs), she noticed a redheaded kid staring at her. Just _staring_. But not in that "is that who I think it is" way. It was far worse than that. It was a challenge stare. And she didn't avert her eyes for a second.   
Rodger got... a bad feeling. He looked toward where her gaze was aimed and saw a rather... rough looking kid. Hardly a kid, perhaps; he could easily have been older than they were. He didn't really look it by his height, but he had a square jaw and some rather impressive tree-trunk legs.   
The redhead didn't break the eye contact, either. He took it as an invitation to move in, and did so quietly among the students who were focussing on keeping their lunches down.   
Civilly, Kyrie rose from her chair and turned, sitting on the edge of the table, instead. She kept that false smile on her face while she slowly crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for whatever may come. Words first, always. Gotta try to quell a situation. "How nice. You noticed me. What can I do for you?"   
Rodger... had an indication that this confrontation may not turn out well. He didn't make a move to get up just yet, but he was ready to leap over the table should he need to. That fact also surprised him quite a bit. He'd never "defended his lady's honor" or anything like that before. Then, he'd never been as interested in anyone before.   
The redhead grinned and folded his own arms in front of him, nodding slowly with a vicious smile. "I don't know. Maybe you can give me some information."   
"Like?" she invited, her tone as pure and calm as a spring day... with a great big tornado just over the horizon.   
The redhead's manner got ten times more cocky than it had been, getting an _invitation_ for his insult. "Like what the daughter of a fag and a psycho bitch is doing at _Garden_ of all places."   
She shook her head, that smile still spectacularly staying in place. Her voice was still gentle, the storm brewing very slowly underneath. "Now, I can't argue with you about the psycho bitch. And it's true, my parents are ho-mo-sex-u-al, to expand your vocabulary. So what's your point?"   
For a moment, the kid seemed at a bit of a loss. He'd expected a little... more. But he had reserves. Assholes like that always did. "I don't think you belong here."   
"I'm starting to agree with you." She stated quite honestly. "But what's that got to do with anything?"   
There was an... obvious frustration in his face. "Look, bitch, I didn't come over here to chat..."   
"Then why are we over here chatting to begin with?" she interrupted, still civilly. "There's ketchup on every table."   
"What?" he asked, confused.   
Kyrie pointed to the ketchup behind her without looking away. Breaking eye contact was a no-no. "I don't see any other reason for you to have come over here. There's nothing else at this table that you might want."   
The asshole rolled up one of his sleeves. "I want a piece of you."   
_Here comes the storm..._ Rodger thought, unable to move. This was too... sickly entertaining.   
"I'm flattered." She never sounded more sincere. "Really, I am. But I'm spoken for. As well as against."   
"Pussy." The redhead growled, rolling up the other sleeve.   
That was almost too dumb to believe. "Me?" she grinned devilishly. "You're the one about to hit a poor little country girl."   
It was clear to a blind man that the dumbass was on the edge of winding up to hit her. What he planned on doing afterward, she didn't bother to guess. Didn't need to. Her instincts took care of it all for her.   
Thump, crack, gush. It was quick and effective. No one expected her to just haul out and punch him in the face. This wasn't a girlie smack; this was a prize fighter, tight fisted, arm all the way back punch. He obviously wasn't aware she'd been trained by the best, both at sucker punches and all out wars. She'd tried to go for him in such a way as to leave his nose unbroken and in tact. Whether or not she was successful, she really didn't care. His face was covered with blood, as was her fist. Satisfaction.   
Without a word, she took a deep breath and began to walk out of the cafeteria.   
"Where are you going?" Rodger stopped her right away, concerned.   
She sighed, a rough sound coming from her clenched teeth. "To Dr. Deluth, to tell him to expect Red over here. Then, undoubtedly, to the Headmaster. Sorry about lunch, I'll make up for it later. I hope."   
"Do you want me to tell Quistis?" he called to her back.   
She turned and shook her head. "No. I'm going to take full responsibility for this one." Her parents had always found a way to get her out of serious trouble in grade school. She was too young to do much more than bloody a face or bruise a torso, but they'd always found (sometimes rather ingenious) ways to keep her in school and among the other children. This time, though, she wanted to admit to doing it, and to why she'd done it. She had been seriously provoked. If she needed to, she knew she could count on Rodger to give testimony to the Headmaster. 

She sat in the waiting room of the Headmaster's office, wrinkling her nose at the hospital-like scent of the place. Just gutwrenching, really. Dr. Deluth had walked her in from the infirmary (which hadn't even smelled as much like a hospital as this place did), as was customary to do with the least injured party in a fight.   
Kyrie sure as hell didn't mind that only one punch was thrown. Some "fight". She'd actually expected to be treated worse. The Doc really hadn't seemed to give a damn either way. Not much of a bedside manner, but she assumed she'd be a little bland herself if she had to deal with all of the little bothers the students brought into the infirmary.   
_Uh-oh._ Of all the luck in the universe, Quistis had chosen that very moment in time to drop off some papers. In a way, Kyrie was actually a little glad that her aunt was there. But she wasn't sure if it would actually _help_ the situation. Timidly, she gave her aunt the faintest of waves with just her fingertips.   
Quistis gently placed the papers on the front desk, then turned and simply _looked_ at her niece for a moment. There wasn't anger or surprise on her face; more of an almost calm acceptance. The gears were already turning.   
_Gods of heaven and earth bless Quistis the warlord_, Kyrie tried very hard not to grin. This was certainly not a situation to act cocky.   
The instructor walked up to her calmly, then sat in the chair right next to hers. "Alright. What happened?" she inquired in a low tone, already inspecting the girl for physical marks.   
"Asshole at lunch." Kyrie answered straight-out. "You know the bit. 'Psycho bitch', 'fag', 'I want to re-arrange your pride before I re-arrange your face' (but not in so many words), etcetera."   
Quistis blinked, pausing for just a moment to think out the situation. "So you got your punch in, did you?"   
"I did."   
Her aunt nodded slowly. "Yeah... that's not going to go over well."   
"No kidding." Kyrie allowed herself a low chuckle.   
They both heard the lock click as the door opened, revealing a very professional looking Headmaster Immorein. "Kyrie Leonhart?" he raised an eyebrow, seeing Quistis beside her.   
Her name called, she assumed she'd be locked in the room with the Headmaster until she was made to apologize or some such shit. But her aunt was actually quick to follow her inside, regardless of the looks she was getting from her employer.   
Kyrie didn't bother to ask or be invited; she sat in the leather chair in front of the Headmaster's desk, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back. This little situation hadn't happened in a while, but she was ready for it.   
Headmaster Immorein sat heavily in his chair, but Quistis herself chose to stand behind her niece. She knew how the guy worked; if she were somehow taller than he was, he might actually listen to her a little more effectively.   
"Well then..." he began, already trying to get some sort of regal accent in his voice to "strike fear into the heart of mortals", "I am told you punched Robert Paragol at lunch time."   
"I did." The accused admitted.   
"And _why_ did you feel the need to hit him?" he continued the calm, quiet assault.   
"He was acting very threatening toward my person." She responded, just as smoothly. "And he called me a bitch. I mean, come on. That's not very respectful."   
The Headmaster crossed his arms. "I hope you aren't trying to act out for attention, young lady. Given your family history, I'd think you had enough."   
Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. It shone deep in her eyes. Not rudely, but certainly not politely, she carefully accentuated, "This had nothing to do with my 'family history', _Sir_. It had to do with a student in particular being a rude asshole. I felt it was my responsibility to correct him, as he is certainly not the kind of student you indicated that you would tolerate at this school. Given there was no staff around and talking did not ease the situation, I acted. I recommend a little more security in the cafeteria."   
Quistis swallowed loudly. Luckily, she hadn't had to say a word. But the last ones uttered carried quite the sting with them. A sting she didn't think the Headmaster would approve of in any way.   
Surprising them both, he actually just grunted and looked from one pair of eyes to the other. His reaction was completely uncertain for some of the longest seconds they'd ever encountered. Finally, he placed his hands on his desk and announced, "I'll look into that. This is a major warning, Ms. Leonhart. Don't let it happen again."   
Quistis knew when the getting was good. She very gently squeezed Kyrie's shoulder, and the both of them began making their way to the door.   
"And Instructor Trepe..." Headmaster Immorein interrupted her subtle retreat, "This is only because you stand behind her. If a next time does happen, I won't be so lenient."   
Ouch. "Yes, sir." She responded, quickly turning to follow (or push) her niece out the door.   
Kyrie herself couldn't say she was angered or offended in any way. She was glad as hell to have had her aunt find her when she did, truth be told. She wasn't certain at first, but seeing as how things turned out now... The Headmaster almost seemed to have made a mad dash at Quistis' throat rather than hers. Interesting. This didn't mean her job was in danger or anything, did it?   
They walked rather silently out of the office, then turned to walk in the long, abandoned hallway back into the heart of Garden. Why the offices were so damn far away from everything else made little sense, but it did well to act as a nice, silent little area in which to talk.   
"I almost wish I could say I was sorry." Kyrie admitted. She never intended, or thought it possible, for her aunt to "get in trouble".   
Quistis smirked. She knew what she meant, and dismissed the entity of Headmaster Immorein altogether. "You and I both know Robert is a dipshit, Kyrie. But you know you're just going to get into trouble no matter who you hit."   
"The accused" nodded. "I know. But it usually only takes one time..."   
A relatively sad grunt came from Quistis. "You know from experience."   
Kyrie shrugged, not quite reminiscing. "Gotta do what needs to be done, right?"   
A cringe met that question. It was true, alright. And maybe the scary thing was that the daughter of both the hero and the villain of the last big war of the world knew it at the same age they did. Perhaps the world was no longer in danger, but the poison was still out there.   
After another long moment of silence, Quistis suddenly stopped in the hallway and turned to her niece, a look of concern on her face. "Do you have condoms?"   
Kyrie was _certain_ her normal composure flew out the window for a few seconds. She knew that the particular hallway in which they were situated was usually empty (and hoped it to hell), but... wow. "I hadn't been planning... I... no. No, I don't." She paused, gathering herself again. "Are you trying to get me killed?"   
Quistis giggled. "I guess I'm trying to get the three of us killed... I just want to make sure you're taken care of."   
"And I appreciate that." Kyrie admitted. "But next time, give me a little warning."   
"Oh, there won't be a next time." Quistis smiled wickedly. "Just check your room when you get back."   
Kyrie shook her head. "You never fail to impress, Quisty."   
"It's what I do best." Her aunt agreed, starting to walk again.   
After a moment of silence, Kyrie felt it absolutely necessary to both change the subject and speak her mind. "That kid isn't the only asshole I've encountered today."   
Quistis grunted, knowing she was referring to the Headmaster. "This guy's got nothing on Cid, I'll tell you." She sighed in the pause. "But, he runs a tight ship. And I still have a job here, so he can't be that horrible."   
"But close." Kyrie commented softly. "What are your thoughts on Ass-Istant Headmaster Evaan?"   
Her aunt started to giggle. "Well, there goes my job."   
_Aha._ "Seriously, though." She implored, a look of amusement on her face as well.   
Quistis cleared her throat quietly. "I think we're both along the same lines as far as he goes. And I'm very glad he was busy, otherwise he'd have been the one handling this situation."   
"I'd have gotten kicked out for sure. Maybe arrested..." Kyrie trailed off.   
"He's just a bag of hot air." The instructor dismissed. "But an obnoxious one."   
She held back a vicious attack on the man's manhood in favor of something just an important: "Does this mean I'm late for class or what?"   
Quistis gave her a devious smile. "Actually, as 'punishment', it's common you miss the rest of your classes for the day."   
Kyrie clenched a fist and hissed a quiet, "Yes!"   
Her aunt chuckled. "Stupid punishment. But it works well for you."   
"Three days until I have to step into a math room." Kyrie continued happily. "Beautiful."   
"If you continue going on, I'll have to get you homework." Quistis teased. "I called your parents, by the way. They'll be picking you up at seven tomorrow."   
Bells. Alarms. "Picking me up?"   
A devious look met that question. "Well, I thought that maybe they could use a private train ride. And, in the mean time, they might want to meet a certain someone..."   
"You are a demon." Kyrie grinned. She didn't mind, really. But... wow. Quistis was already going to have Rodger meet her parents? Then another thought came to mind.   
But Quistis intercepted it. "I'll tell Mr. Kinneas you'll be in your room after classes."   
She was so freakin' lucky to have such a magnificent aunt.   


Stepping into her room, she noticed a box the size of a labrador retriever next to her bed. She needn't guess what was in it; her name was written in Quistis' handwriting. "If that's not pressure..." she murmured to herself, smiling. Luckily the box was light enough to allow her to push it into the closet, out of sight. That might have made Rodger a little... nervous.   
Two and a half hours, give or take, and he'd be out of class. She could go to the training grounds again... but no, they might ask her if it was her fault they had to restock so early. Best to wait a while. She could wander the halls with relative freedom... but, no doubt, that was not the best of ideas when she was supposed to be sitting with her nose in a corner, feeling shame for what she'd done.   
Oh! She could sneak out and get some _real_ food! But, of course, that would be more than noticed. Damn.   
She could always try to study for math or history. Yeah, that was a funny idea. And not a very good one, she didn't think.   
"There must be a way to get television stations on these things." She spoke toward her computer. It was mid-day, afternoon, and there were all kinds of strange and sick things to watch that would keep her occupied. No doubt it was very important to keep her mind occupied when she'd actually come up with the studying idea.   


Fresh from an ungodly long and boring discussion of why algebra and geometry is important to everyone, Rodger wandered down the hallway. He stopped Kyrie's room and raised his hand to knock, then paused when he thought he heard voices. With a quick glance up and down the hallway to make sure no one was coming, he placed his ear to the door.   
He'd worried, at first. It had sounded like an angry male voice; there were too many thoughts to note, each ending badly. But as he listened, he discovered that it was really television. It had to have been; there was a laugh track.   
With a grin, he leaned back and knocked twice. He'd suspected she was a rather creative person who hated to be bored. And it was nice to have that proven.   
The sound of voices died down instantly. Just a few seconds later, the door opened on a very satisfied looking Kyrie. "Hey. I have television."   
Rodger smirked. "Yeah, I know. Better not let word get out, everyone will want to know how to do it."   
She backed up and indicated for him to come in. After locking the door, she walked by the computer and hit a key, turning the sound back up just enough to create a low murmur to hide their conversation from anyone nosey on the outside. "It's a lot easier than I thought." She took it upon herself to sit first, unassuming, on the edge of the bed.   
That seemed like invitation enough. He was quick to follow, not sitting too terribly close, but not too far away. Either extreme was just weird. "You didn't miss anything fun. Or interesting. Or remotely sensible."   
"What a horrible punishment." She joked.   
"What happened?" he was genuinely curious. He'd thought, by the sound of things, she was going to get kicked out already. All he kept hearing all day was how much that Robert kid had bled. Nothing was broken, but it sure as hell couldn't have felt real good.   
"I got a warning." Kyrie responded with a bitter edge. "But so did Quistis, I'm afraid." She shook her head, focussing just for a moment on the carpet. "Sometimes I actually wish people would stop defending me."   
Rodger suddenly got a very amused look on his face. When she stared at him, he put his hands up a little defensively. "Someone asked if you used that move on me yet."   
She was more than glad to smile, getting her mind off something she could swear was related to guilt. "Yes?"   
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I said no. You kept the damage under the clothes so no one could see."   
That certainly enticed a laugh out of her. They'd fallen along the same wavelength, it seemed. Or at least similar enough to keep up with one another. How strange it was... "Are you going home for the weekend?"   
"Yeah. Gotta eat." He grinned. "How's your hand, by the way?"   
She thought about that one for a moment. "Satisfied."   
"Heh. I bet." He cleared his throat gently, getting his courage in order. Sure it was a cheap shot, and she was sure to know what he was after, but... "I can massage it for you. If you want."   
She raised an eyebrow and stared dead center into his very being. Not the most comfortable thing for him, no doubt, as it did make him squirm a little. But that's what she was after. She knew where this was leading; at least, she knew the general direction. "Alright." She agreed timidly. "But... I'm fragile."   
He smiled just a touch deviously, slowly placing his hand over hers. Not a mark on it. Sort of surprising, with how hard she'd hit that asshole. Of course, it was pretty clear at the time that she knew how to throw a punch. His "sneaky plan" had worked; he grasped her hand gently and leaned in to kiss her...   
With absolutely no warning, she dropped the bomb, "And what base are you thinking of sliding onto tonight, mister?"   
He pulled back and looked at her, a little taken aback by the question. And then more so by the way it was worded. This trial by fire business was getting tougher. "Um... second, maybe?"   
Hm. At least he was honest. "Through the clothes?"   
_Dear gods._ He could not believe he was having this conversation. It was so... grotesquely funny. "If I must."   
_Sweet_. "If I don't remain chaste when my parents see me, you may die." She couldn't hold a straight face at the end of that comment. It broke into a straight-out laugh when she saw Rodger's expression.   
It did take him a moment to get his bearings again. Sometimes it was hard to tell when she was joking. And how much truth the jokes actually held. "Aw, come on."   
She narrowed her eyes jokingly. "How do I know that I'm not just one of your little flavor-sluts?"   
_That_ one made him laugh so hard he had to hold his stomach. "Sorry." He burst into rapid giggles.   
Her lips twisted with the most _vicious_ of thoughts... She fell back onto the bed and took a hold of his shoulders, using her momentum to turn and position him on top of her. The laughter stopped almost immediately. "How's this?"   
No answer. Nothing for a moment. He'd closed his eyes with whirring thoughts better left unspoken at that moment in time. "It's so... cruel. To tease."   
"Oh." She pretended not to notice. "Alright, then..." she proceeded to push him off.   
But he wasn't _quite_ ready to move. "Now, just wait a minute..." he grinned down at her.   
Why she didn't feel threatened was a complete mystery. She suspected that if _anyone_ else, in the entire _world_ were in the position Rodger was, she'd be clawing their fucking eyes out and telling them to get, the, fuck, off.   
He was trying _so_ hard not to move at all. Especially not back and forth. "This is slightly beyond second, you know."   
Kyrie smiled wickedly. "I am aware. I thought you deserved as much. Putting up with trial by fire, after all.   
Not to say he wasn't flattered. but... this was just cruel. Even he didn't want to take it so quickly. Though, damn, it sure felt incredible. "You know... I'm going to have to find some time to myself tonight, now..."   
She laughed softly, thinking. "I rather like the idea of someone jerking off with me in mind."   
His eyes closed instantly. His voice was thick, almost pleading; her words alone might get quite the interesting reaction... "_Hyne_, Kyrie..."   
She sighed quietly with a humming sound, gently pressing against his shoulders. He was right, this was too far. She could tease the living shit out of him, but she didn't _want_ to be extraordinarily cruel. And certainly not a regular female on top of that. "Alright, alright. I'll stop."   
It was like a sobering slap, and he came out of his daze. "No, I don't mean it's... a bad thing..."   
She chuckled, almost ready to pull him closer, truth be told. But he'd already thought it best to climb off of her himself. "Never thought I had it in me." She joked, realizing her heart had begun to race.   
"Me either." He grinned sufficiently, making his hand move to fan himself a bit. She was good. Real good. Temptation was going to _kill_ him. "Where'd you learn that?"   
"I grew up with a home computer." She responded simply.   
That was indeed all she'd needed to say. Everything at your fingertips; dangerous and wonderful. And apparently she had been "wandering" for quite some time. He wasn't sure if he ought to be nervous or grateful.   
"How about we both just watch television with the volume low and plot how to get good food into this place?" she suggested.   
"That's a very good idea." He agreed. It would be nice just to sit with her. To experience normal, everyday things with her.   
The computer screen turned their direction and the sound down low, they sat side by side, hand in hand, more or less just watching the pictures and catching the occasional dialog. It didn't take long to start dubbing the characters, making them say some pretty horrific things to one another. Then insulting what they were wearing. And, better still, the dubbing of the news people.   
It _was_ nice just to be with him, Kyrie thought. Of all the weird goddamn things in the world... did she have a crush? Oh, hell no. It was much bigger than that. Was it... the "L word"? As she glanced over at Rodger to confirm or deny this suspicion, he yawned widely. "Tired already?"   
He certainly didn't _want_ to be. But neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep last night, not to mention he had to get up early the next morning. "Yeah, gotta catch a train at seven."   
"Ugh. Me, too." She absolutely hated getting up early. "They have fucked schedules on the weekends."   
An idea rang in his head. "Hey, we can get up really early and have breakfast at the station."   
"Real food? What a concept." She paused, then amended that statement. "Well, as real as it gets for train station food."   
Rodger grinned. "What do you say?"   
As much as she loathed getting up early, at least this would be worth the effort. "Sure. Meet here at..." she paused to shudder at the very idea, "5:30?"   
"Plenty of time to get our shit together." He agreed. Before she had a chance to come up with something else to say, he surprised her with a short, simple kiss. "Good night, then."   
"Don't you want me to walk you home?" she almost wanted to convince him to stay through the night... but obviously that wouldn't be tolerated. Not even by Quistis. And not by her own standards... so she used to think, anyway.   
He shook his head, smiling wistfully. "Just... sit there and wave to me, okay?"   
Hm. There was something unusually nice to that. "Okay. Good night, Rodger."   
With another small kiss, he slowly released her hands, stood up, and walked to the door. Tapping the unlock, he stepped out and looked back just for a second. She was waving with only her fingertips. Something about that enticed a grin. He waved back, turned, and walked away.   
Kyrie was left there in the murmur and dim light of the computer for many long minutes. What had just happened there? Had she found a human being she didn't mind spending time with? More amazing, that seemed to appreciate spending time with her? And then, those feelings... So much. Almost too much. But she wasn't complaining a bit. She hoped to hell she could relax him at breakfast. Meeting her parents already may be a bit... unnerving for him.   


So early. So fucking early. Why had she made plans to get up _this_ fucking early?   
Oh yeah. That cute kid with the nice smile. Damn him.   
The shower did little to wake her. She tried hot, warm, and, gods forbid, cold--for a moment. Then it was back to hot again.   
After drying off, she took Rodger's approach to wardrobe; jeans and a t-shirt. Only, her jeans were black and her shirt was white. But it was the same concept. It's not like she had anyone to dress up for, anyway. And sure as hell not this early in the morning, even if she did.   
A knock actually came at her door at quarter to 5:30. There was no doubt who it was, of course, being the only one who knocks; Rodger stood on the other side, looking every bit as conscious as she was. Maybe even a little less.   
"You're early." Kyrie announced with a fresh toothpasted and mouth rinsed smile.   
"I thought I might as well be. Up before the sun as it is." His words melded together a little at the end, and he softly rubbed his face with his palms. He'd probably sleep on the train, all the way to the end of the line. And, if he was lucky, maybe even all the way back for good measure. "Ready?"   
"As I will ever be." She mumbled, stumbling out.   
Even though the air was cold (and dammit, she'd worn a short sleeved t-shirt) and the sun was just coming up, it was nice outside. Almost completely silent, save for a couple of shop keepers who opened early. Pretty much just the bakery and grocery-type stores had lights in them at the time, or sparse people wandering toward them. Either way, it was a nice walk.   
The station itself was unnaturally silent. as well. Sure there were the sounds of grinds, clicks and rail checks, but no murmurs, no laughter, no human conversation. The sounds of their footsteps echoed crisply off the walls as they made their way to the small food court, having _plenty_ of time to try and wake up.   
They sat quietly in front of a little breakfast bar, a single older woman working the front. She seemed to think it was at least three in the afternoon, the way she perkily came over to ask, "What would you two like to start with?"   
"Coffee." They stated simultaneously.   
The lady smirked. "How do you take it?"   
"Black." Kyrie answered darkly.   
Rodger grinned. "One sugar, please. No, wait, make that three."   
The woman raised and eyebrow, but turned to get their orders. The coffee smelled absolutely fresh, and they both stared weakly at the black liquid filling the white mugs. Three sugar cubes dropped into the leftmost cup, floating for only an instant before sinking to their eventual demise. The woman smiled warmly, setting the cups in front of the half-alive customers. "Anything else?"   
Kyrie glanced up at the menu, running her eyes over everything that looked good. "Waffles for me. And bacon."   
Rodger clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. That sounded _good_. "Me too, please."   
Agreeable customers. It was about damn time. The lady smiled, nodded, and went into the back room to cook.   
Even with the quiet, the relative comfort they found in such an environment and around each other, there was little conversation the few minutes they were alone. The coffee hadn't kicked in yet. They hadn't digested anything yet. When their plates came out, however, they suddenly woke up. These weren't cheap, run of the mill waffles with an ounce of syrup. These were stacked four layers high, in a syrup soup, with five strips of bacon on a raised platform on the side of each plate. They looked like children at holiday time.   
And the eating, oh, the eating... The woman behind the counter was constantly going in and out of the back room, setting up for the busy day ahead. But she heard a number of happy sighs and quiet moans of pleasure. She'd more or less assumed they were kids in from Garden, and she'd heard about the food there. She was just pleased that her cooking was being enjoyed fully. And, obviously, these were going to be returning customers.   
Both of them had been hungry, true. But neither of them thought they could handle the whole meal. And a coffee refill, each. It was... so good.   
With the last bite, Rodger closed his eyes and prayed that Garden would decide its food was cruel and unusual and offer something of this caliber. And then he remembered... "Shit, money..." he murmured, pulling 5 Gil out of his otherwise empty pocket. "Um... I have enough for tip..."   
Kyrie grinned, pulling something out of her back pocket. "I got the rest covered." She flashed a professional looking card between her fingers.   
The move caught the attention of the woman behind the counter, and she walked over to take the card. As she inspected the front, she instantly recognized the name. "Oh, Ms Leonhart! No charge, dear."   
"I insist." Kyrie countered. "Really."   
The lady seemed very split on the issue. But, with another couple of seconds of meeting the girl's eyes evenly, she nodded. "Alright. But next time is free." Without waiting for response, she swiped the card through the computer slot, getting an obnoxious beep from it, then handed it back.   
Kyrie nodded politely, waiting for the woman to retreat into the back room before speaking. "Sometimes it really does pay to be a Leonhart."   
Rodger smiled back, putting the tip just under his mug. "You shouldn't have had to pay for me, though..."   
"I didn't." She interrupted deviously. "This is an 'emergency expense card'... but I think they'll understand when I explain the nature of the emergency."   
He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I should walk you to your train. Leonhart or no," he indicated the gunblade on her hip, "The freaks will be out soon. Shouldn't leave you alone."   
Oh boy. "Actually... Quistis got my parents to pick me up for some reason..." she looked over to catch a glimpse of the horrified expression on his face. "The train is due just a few minutes before the one to Esthar is due to leave. It's not like you'll have a chance to converse with them or anything."   
That look of terror was still plastered onto his face. What a thought. What had she told them about him? What the hell did they think of him? What the--but it was too late. What was certainly their train had begun clunking into the station. "This is far worse than trial by fire."   
She couldn't help the amused look on her face. "I swear, I thought it'd give you less stress if I didn't even mention it. Go with the flow, y'know."   
He glared at her. Not a hateful glare, surely, but a "what the hell did you do that for" glare. But, yes, the fact remained that it was too late now. And, honestly, he'd rather try to "go with the flow" than spend hours agonizing about every little detail; what to say, how to dress, how not to run away screaming in fear...   
As the train to the right of where they were situated pulled to a stop, so too did one to their left. Now Kyrie had cause to wait for someone to step out instead of placing Rodger squarely into the fire. It was good for both of them, in fact. She had time to check if there were any syrup stains on her clothes.   
From the train on the right emerged a figure that, even from this distance, enticed a familiar feeling in Kyrie. As she glanced at Rodger, she saw his jaw slack. Curious, she gazed again at the woman... and recognized her from old pictures of Squall's; Selphie. Aged with a few soft wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but it was definitely Selphie. For all of her similarities to her former self, she still looked quite different. She was in a dress, for one thing. A long one.   
Rodger stared at her for another moment before squeaking, "I... didn't know."   
His companion (his girlfriend, really... though that was still a new concept) only nodded. "I gathered that."   
Quistis at work again, for certain. But this time, no one was quite sure how it would turn out. Rodger completely surprised her by gripping her hand tightly. What he expected from this, she didn't really take the time to guess. She didn't even know what the options were. Should she try to walk up to find her parents? Just stay behind with Rodger, looking like scared deer, waiting for... something? She felt like an idiot just staring.   
The other train's doors opened, and she saw her own parents step down onto the platform. At first, they looked around for her. But it certainly didn't take long for them to make eye contact with Rodger's mother.   
Selphie took a deep breath, then slowly stepped toward Squall and Seifer. Her expression was neutral, but somehow there was an irrepressible joy underneath it. Something in her lit up just seeing those two old friends.   
The two men were obviously in a bit of shock over seeing her at all, let alone the fact she was approaching with open arms. Obviously it wasn't anything they had expected. Their expressions mutated into something close to relief as Selphie threw her arms around them both, trying not to cry.   
"This is just weird." Rodger whispered.   
Kyrie agreed with a grunt. "I guess we ought to go over and dislodge them."   
He took several slow, deep breaths. "Okay."   
"You sure?" she teased.   
"Don't ask me that..." he pleaded, standing up.   
With a comforting expression, Kyrie led him onto the platform between the trains. There was a nervous feeling in her chest; not necessarily for herself or anything that directly concerned her, really, but for her parents. For the situation. As their footsteps interrupted the silence between the trains' clatter, the group of old friend moved apart.   
Squall cleared his throat, allowing the shock to settle just below the surface. "This is our daughter. Kyrie."   
_I guess I'm on_, she thought dully. She forced herself to pull away from Rodger and nodded a greeting. "Hello, ma'am."   
Selphie knotted her hands in front of herself, seeming to look delighted. She smiled warmly at the girl, seeing parts of both of her parents clearly. She then held out her hands and clasped Kyrie's between them, shaking them lightly. "So you're Kyrie. It's nice to meet you."   
She smiled back as genuinely as she could manage. "Selphie... I've seen you in photographs."   
The woman kept on shining, releasing her hands slowly back to her sides. "It's nice to see all of you, of course." She paused and looked at her son, then up at the two men, wondering whether or not to continue. She was still decidedly carefree Selphie in the end. She giggled and commented, "It's good that something worked out around us, isn't it?"   
Seifer's eyes dropped for a moment. He knew it wasn't anything he should take to heart; not _that_ way, at least. It wasn't even really directed toward him.   
Selphie sensed her rudeness and immediately moved to change the subject. "Oh, yes. And this is my son, Rodger."   
Now Rodger felt the pangs of being center stage for a moment. He glanced at Kyrie, seeing her chest heave a sigh of relief while her eyes gave him a sympathizing wink.   
Seifer looked at him for a few seconds, judging. He seemed like a nice boy. Certainly not Irvine's. Although he looked too much like his father to deny it. At last, he held his hand out and shook firmly. "Hello." He seriously repressed the urge to ask, with a demon's grin, _"And what have you been doing with my daughter?"_   
Rodger took a breath, grasped that very tight and awfully calloused hand and remained as calm as he could possibly allow himself. "Hello, sir." When his hand had been released, he stepped to the side to offer it to Squall, hoping between the two of them he'd be allowed to walk away free and unharmed. "Uh, sir."   
Squall's face was absolutely blank save small lines of concentration. He was working hard to judge the boy in a matter of seconds. He may well be taking care of his daughter for months to come, after all. The way they'd gotten along so far, maybe longer. "Hello, Rodger."   
Uneasy silence ensued as Rodger stepped back next to what he now felt was his only protection; and she didn't seem able to offer him much shelter at the moment. Though, now they were _all_ exposed to one another. Too much space, too much silence.   
"Well..." Selphie finally interrupted, softly, "Our train is almost ready to leave by now..."   
Squall nodded. "Ours, too." He glanced at the "lovebirds", giving one another a look of fear and relief. "Take care of yourself."   
"You, too." Selphie pleaded sincerely. "I... I'll give you a call after the weekend. Okay?"   
"Yes." Seifer assured. "Yes, of course."   
Unable to hold back, Selphie gave them both another hug. She seemed like she wanted to say something more, something reassuring... but any more words may just make her break out into tears. It was good to see them. And it was good to honestly promise to call.   
Squall gave Kyrie another glance. A "make it quick, we gotta go" glance.   
She didn't react well under this sort of pressure. But, what the hell. She tried to make it fast, seeing as how they were both being watched closely. "I, uh... see you Monday, then."   
"Right." Rodger added a little too quickly. He was all too aware of the eyes on them as well. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Everyone expected... something. "I'll... see you around."   
"Hey," Seifer suggested suavely, unable to control himself, "Why don't you give him a big kiss?"   
Rodger nearly leapt as he saw her eyes flare for a moment. There wasn't anger in them, but she was obviously not too thrilled. It was funny, really, and she'd think so later. If she had to _force_ it, she'd think so later. "Don't want to disappoint the crowd." She whispered.   
He had no chance to react. She'd thrown her arms around him and gone in for a great big movie kiss. He nearly lost his balance in shock, until he found the only way to regain it was to press his body against hers. For some reason, he found himself minding this situation less and less. When her lips left, he nearly moaned with frustration. Luckily, he caught himself. He rather disliked the idea of being ripped apart by her parents. They seemed nice, but he was fully aware of underlying issues. Issues that could result in violence, he supposed.   
With that, they waved (well, she waved, anyway) and moved apart with their respective parents. Just as the trains they'd arrived on, their departures were also side by side across the platform. Sitting down as the trains both belted out their departure horns at exactly 7:00, Kyrie could actually see Rodger at a window seat. Even at their distance through two layers of glass, she saw him blushing. It was sweet in a sickly obsessed kind of way. She waved and gave him a thumbs up as the trains slowly began moving together for a few yards, then apart through separate tunnels.   


"Did you have any idea about that?" Seifer finally broke the silence as the train reached full speed just outside the station.   
"Not a clue." Kyrie responded, still a little... shocked. It was awkward. Very, very awkward. But that was a really good kiss. That's the thought that really lingered.   
"Rodger seems like a good kid." Squall chimed in, for once trying to make everyone comfortable. His daughter, however, already seemed comfortable enough. While his face was completely blank, his eyes had a smile playing in them. "Good kisser, too."   
"What else is he good at?" Seifer broke in. If there was one thing he was an expert at, it was teasing.   
"Nothing you'd be interested in." Kyrie responded, unable to hide her widening grin.   
Squall chuckled. Neither of them had quite a father-daughter relationship with her. It was a hell of a lot more... "open". And he rather liked it that way.   
Seifer, in a very sadistic mood as was proven by the kissing request, went a little further. They had the car all to themselves, after all. "Have you two... gone wild yet?"   
Even Squall gave him a half serious glare. Kyrie just laughed, which could be taken either way. It was disturbingly funny, her father asking her if she'd had sex. "Damned if I'll answer that, Father."   
It was Seifer's turn to laugh. One big happy family, alright. 


	6. Chapter 6

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 6   
by Orin Drake 

There hadn't been a lot of conversation on the way. Not that silence was a new thing between herself and her parents. It felt a little odd, though. Just small comments regarding the normal things--the food, the room, the quality of the education, how much of an ass the Headmaster was--seemed so... unusually normal. Abnormally normal. And then some.   
The train was obviously not a stop-over in Esthar; she noticed as she caught a glance of Esthar Station in the distance, passing them by with a dull smirk. She wasn't planning on Squall to want to stop and talk to Laguna or anything, but it was still a little funny. As much as their "relationship" had "improved" over the past few years, it still pretty much sucked. Sometimes it even made Seifer comment along the lines of being glad he didn't have any parents.   
About half an hour from their ultimate destination, Squall's cell phone rang. Considering very few people knew the number, he answered right away. "Yes?"   
Silence. And then a slightly harsh expression on his face. Kyrie knew it was Quistis immediately. "Yeah." Squall answered, flatly. "Great surprise."   
His daughter tried very hard not to look too amused when he glanced her way. "Mmm hmm." He went on, somewhat disengaged. "We'll discuss it later. Much later. Alright, bye."   
Seifer gave him a half-smile. "Definitely her idea, huh?"   
Squall nodded sharply, placing the phone back in his pocket. Truth be told, he wasn't really mad. Nor upset. He was merely suffering from utter and complete surprise that just didn't seem to want to dull. First, the fact that Quistis would set up such a meeting. And then, that Selphie seemed so... happy about it. Like the past was almost forgotten. _Almost_.   
Seifer decided to change the subject altogether. "How's the gunblade been?"   
Ah, that enticed an unexpected grin from her. "Accurate."   
Her parents exchanged a glance. "And when have to you time to shoot?" her father asked.   
"It was part of a date." Kyrie responded ever so innocently.   
Now Squall's mouth turned upward in a grin he couldn't control. "So you're the reason they had to restock the training grounds so early."   
Ooops. Caught. Not that she could stop her shoulders from lifting, looking so goddamn proud of herself. "A good shot's gotta practice."   
Seifer chuckled. Any kid that would take his daughter out shooting for an evening was both extremely safe and extremely dangerous, from a parent's perspective.   


Pulling the car into the driveway, Squall cut the engine and stepped out. Kyrie stared for a moment out the window, at the house. Nothing had changed. Not that there had been _time_ for anything to change. It was a little comforting, actually, knowing that her parents weren't entirely restructuring their lives now that she was... kind of "gone".   
Her thoughts were interrupted when her door opened; her dad had done it for her. He'd never opened her door for her before. Not that she minded at all, it was a nice gesture. But it did make her begin to rethink the "nothing had changed" vibe from just a millisecond back.   
Stepping onto the familiar dirt road, she took a deep breath. Ah, the smell of home. She had no idea she'd have missed it so much. She looked up just in time to see Seifer and Squall exchange a bit of a look. Uh-oh. Something was indeed... amiss. But then, the last time she'd sensed such a thing, it'd turned out very well for her; she unconsciously ran her fingertips over her gunblade. It couldn't be that bad anyway, could it? They were all joking on the train and everything.   
Squall looked at his daughter with a little uncertainty. But there was something just a little bit... stubborn about him. As if he needed a burst of confidence for something. "Would you like to walk with me, Kyrie?"   
Hm. That wasn't _really_ a question. There was a little hesitation pulling at her now, glancing over at Seifer who seemed already on his way into the house rather than following. "Not coming, father?"   
Seifer smiled slightly. "Nah. So many things to do. But I'll see you for dinner."   
Yes, this was a weird situation. "Sure." She answered as certainly as she could manage. Not that she was expecting any sort of danger, but... things were weird enough as it was. She watched her dad's little nod and followed, however.   
It quickly became clear that Squall was leading her to her "secret spot". There was a bit of apprehension about that. It was very private, very relaxing... but to be led there... She didn't have a pet to have died while she was gone, so that couldn't be it. Seifer was obviously still kicking, and didn't look like he'd had any massive medical problems. She doubted they'd be getting a divorce at this point in time...   
Squall stopped at a place he thought appropriate; shady, grassy, and just along the tree line of her favorite hide-away. It felt almost as if he was trying not to contaminate the actual area with his presence for her benefit. He just took a deep breath as though preparing himself for something, and indicated to sit.   
Strange. Surreal. But not entirely uncomfortable. She sat next to one of the large pine trees, the pungent smell of sap making her feel that much more at home. Not to mention slightly more at ease with this situation.   
Squall sat right next to her, leaning against the tree rather than completely face her. Not yet. Not just yet. He lightly glanced her way, taking note of her steady, curious gaze. Almost nervously, he commented, "This feels a little weird, huh?"   
What an understatement. "Im eighteen years old, sitting in the grass for the first time in my life with my dad, and _you_ feel weird?"   
The corners of Squall's mouth rose slightly. She had a point. He took another deep, preparatory breath; Seifer had convinced him that maybe he needed to make a little more time to chat with his daughter. Just once in eighteen years, as she'd pointed out, wasn't exactly enough to repair their relationship. And he did desperately want to be closer to her. This was all just so... new. "I hear there may be a romance starting..." he began jokingly.   
His daughter appreciated the understatement, getting to be a little more at ease. "Yeah. I guess so."   
"Serious?" he gently pressed, wanting to know everything.   
Now that was an interesting question. She thought so, anyway. Of course, never having had a boyfriend before... "I just..." she stopped with an aggravated sigh. It was so hard to express. And so weird to be doing so in front of her dad. "I... _know_ it's not just a crush. I don't know how I know, but... I do."   
He tried to contain himself. Part of him was very happy for his daughter. Another part was slightly concerned. Rodger seemed nice, alright... but his father _was_ Irvine. He grunted acknowledgment of her statement rather than risk a caustic comment.   
She couldn't help but smile at that, just a little. She knew more or less along what line he was thinking. "I know what I feel... but I still think it's too good to be true." She paused with a swallow, deciding if they were ever to be completely comfortable with each other, they'd need to speak honestly. "How did you and Seifer finally... y'know."   
There was a dazzling bitter-sweet smile on his face as the question sunk in. It made him look like a teenager again. "Let me show you something." He suggested, sitting straight up. He unbuttoned his slightly threadbare shirt halfway and pulled it open just enough to reveal his chest. Almost dead center there was a flat but obvious white scar; a large letter "A".   
She stared for a moment. It didn't quite compute.   
That smile had turned into a mild grin when his daughter glanced into his eyes. "It wasn't easy." He said simply.   
_Wow._ She thought with an intense interest. "So... Seifer did that?"   
Nearly shy laughter answered her question as Squall buttoned his shirt again. "Yeah. It was... the final challenge, I guess."   
Kyrie shook her head slightly. As if that damned Rodger hadn't put enough glorious thoughts in her head... "So when did you realize it was love? Before or after the bleeding?"   
"During." Her dad answered honestly.   
_Sweet._ "So you're saying violence is a virtue."   
"Sometimes I don't doubt it." Squall stared back at his daughter with combined fascination and humor. She was... an interesting person. He always knew she was intelligent, but never once thought that she was... well, at "his level", so to speak. Which was stupid on his part, he realized. He remembered what he was like at eighteen. Not too terribly advanced, perhaps, but... intelligent. And he hated people that treated him as anything less.   
"Did you ever really love Rinoa?" Kyrie fired point blank. She saw her dad's eyes flash open, but wasn't left with the impression he'd try to dart around the question.   
He thought of what to say for a moment. Not really _what_ to say, but how to say it. That emotional stuff was still really hard. "Yeah." He finally decided upon. "I did." He closed his eyes, reliving the moments he'd actually enjoyed with the girl. "She was... different from anything I'd ever experienced. Free. Uninhibited. It was attractive."   
She could accept that answer. "So there was a point in time when you really loved her."   
"Mmm." Squall responded quietly. "But she changed. A lot. She became... needy. Over time she was almost obsessive about it. About me."   
"And she was just fucking nuts by the time I was born?" she asked seriously.   
He turned his head, almost ready to chastise her for using such language. But then at her age, he'd been no better. "Something like that, yes." He swallowed slowly, fighting to actually _bring back_ memories of his old friends. It had been a long time. "What's Rodger like?"   
Kyrie answered most of that question with a slightly off center grin. "He _is_ nice. Very. And not easily scared."   
Squall nodded. "I never did have a lot of friends."   
"Is Selphie part of the 'in crowd' now or what?"   
"I think so. It's really kind of nice to have her back." He paused, uncertain of what to say next. He didn't really plan on any topic of conversation, but words came freely from his lips regardless of thinking them through. "I think... we all make mistakes that we aren't proud of."   
"Like Rinoa."   
He laughed. "Yes, like Rinoa."   
She cut him off before he could continue his line of thought. "I don't blame either of you for anything. I never would."   
That statement seemed to hit him a bit harder than any of the rest of her blunt comments ever had. He was quiet for a while, thinking; remembering his life with her and Seifer. "That doesn't really mean we're not to blame for something."   
"Touché." His daughter agreed quietly.   
He grunted softly in acknowledgment. His thoughts had entered another realm completely. "Do you know what my first memory is? Just being alone. In the rain."   
"You're a ray of sunshine, Dad."   
He chuckled. "What's yours?"   
Kyrie took a breath and held it between her teeth for a moment, as if tasting the situation altogether. "You sure you really want to know?"   
"Yes." He sounded sure enough.   
"Hearing you ask Laguna, 'Why didn't you come after me?'." It was as clear in her memory as if it were yesterday. Somehow, for no reason she could remember, the subject had gone from good-natured joking about never being adopted to the serious, heated discussion of why Laguna never tried to find his son in the first place.   
Squall paled just slightly. He remembered that. But she was only four then. Maybe a little younger. How could she have remembered? How could she have understood?   
"I didn't want you to feel guilty about it." She disabled his thought process. "But that _is_ the first thing I remember." _I guess that explains a bit..._   
"Mmm. That bothers you." It wasn't really a question, but it was less than a statement. An acknowledgment, maybe.   
She cupped her chin in the palm of one hand, looking right into his face, into his eyes. "From the standpoint of your daughter, yes. It'd bother any kid. From the standpoint of someone who wasn't there during this whole process that caused the guilt, and seeing that the guilt is held onto, even multiplied..." she trailed off, trying to put her opinion into words. It was hard as hell to express. "I know it's part of you both. And I know no one would let either of you forget. But there's no... no _reason_ to keep the experience as guilt anymore."   
He raised an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe these words were coming from his daughter's mouth. She sounded almost as if she were as old as he was. Maybe even older. "It's... hard." He found himself sounding like an idiot.   
To his surprise, she smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know. I just... hate to see it still hurting after all this time."   
"How long have you known?" he let himself breathe.   
"About the guilt?" she met his thought spot-on, waiting for him to nod slightly before she continued. "Since my first memory, I guess." She was utterly silent with thought for a moment. "I didn't know what it was, or what to call it until I was fifteen or so, but... I always knew it was there."   
Squall shook his head sadly, another guilt falling across his chest. But when he looked at his daughter, there wasn't an ounce of accusation there. More of a... an understanding. Like she knew. Like she'd been thinking about all of this for a very long time. It was strange to see anyone look at him like that, let alone part of his own flesh and blood.   
"Don't start feeling guilty again." She suggested quietly.   
"Hard habit to break." He made an attempt to smile.   
She nodded, fully aware. It may sting for a while, maybe, but she was confident that the rift between herself and Squall would cease to exist eventually. They'd already made some great progress. "I _do_ love you, Dad." She let herself admit openly.   
That bittersweet smile again. She loved to see that expression, the storms gently rolling through his lit-up eyes. "I love you too, Kyrie." Very softly, he wrapped an arm around her and brought her closer, hugging his daughter with a love he never thought he'd quite be able to accept from Laguna. "And I'll try to be... better about this."   
"No need to change identities, Dad." She quipped, lost in the embrace--but in a good way. In fact, she was even hugging back with the same fervor. It was... so nice. She felt the weight of Griever press up against her and experienced an emotional lump in her throat in spite of herself.   


Seifer glanced out the kitchen window and held his gaze, seeing Squall and Kyrie walk side by side through the trees and into the yard. The way they were chatting back and forth about nothing in particular made him grin. Apparently he'd made the correct suggestion for once. Hell, he could give Quistis a run for her money. This deserved some dessert.   
He pretended to be too involved in some task he'd quickly picked up to notice them as they came in, but turned around as he clearly heard the sound of their shoes on the tile floor. Squall had his arm just resting around Kyrie's shoulders, giving Seifer a look that emanated a weight taken off of his chest. An everything-is-going-to-be-alright look that he never thought he quite saw there before.   
The blonde noted how uncharacteristic it was for him, really. But a pleasant surprise. "Hungry for real food?"   
"Very." Their daughter didn't miss a beat. It was an unreachable dream, real food. Something that didn't smell or taste like pork. Something that tasted like chicken, for once, was a godsend. "As soon as possible, please."   
"Alright." Seifer agreed, turning on the oven. "I do have one present for you first, though." He grinned.   
Kyrie cocked her head slightly. "Do I get a present every time I come home?"   
"Probably." Her father chuckled. "Spoiled brat, ya." He brought a blue gift-wrapped box with a dark purple ribbon out from under the table, presenting it to her with great flare.   
_It's either a _lot_ of bullets, or something else..._ Kyrie thought happily. She gratefully accepted, sat at her usual chair at the table, and carefully yanked the ribbon apart. In a familiar flurry of tattered paper that her parents still found humorously endearing, there was indeed a box underneath. She carefully sliced the tape holding the lid on with her fingernails and flipped it off the top.   
Frye boots looked back at her. Solid black leather, save one silver decoration; a metal ring at the outside ankle, held in place onto the boot by three thin straps of leather placed equally apart. _Wow_ were they ever nice looking.   
"Your dad used to have a pair. And they were sex-ay." Seifer explained.   
Squall tried not to laugh at that. "I still have them somewhere around here. Just in case anyone needs their ass kicked."   
"That a hint?" Kyrie asked, gently lifting the right boot from the box and removing the stuffing inside.   
"You bet." He smiled.   
"More like a threat." Seifer added honestly enough to take him serious.   
She grinned the whole time she was taking her old boots off. She could picture it; Rodger letting something far from innocent slip accidentally, Squall chasing him from one side, and Seifer from the other... probably not that funny for Rodger, though. She'd make a note of telling him to be on guard. Should he ever decide to meet her parents again, that was.   
Zipping the inner sides of both boots, she stood and walked around a bit. Perfectly constructed for lasting, obviously. They were padded in just the right places. Combat boots. She felt so... wickedly powerful.   
Seifer saw that look of satisfaction on her face. "I take it madam is pleased?"   
She turned on the ball of her foot like a soldier. "Affirmative." She took a moment to bounce back and forth from heel to toe and back, making sure they were just stiff enough, without having to be severely broken in. Definitely a high quality boot. "Thank you, Father. You, too, Dad."   
Squall crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, smiling. He'd picked them for her without a second thought, hoping she would appreciate them. It was nice to know he'd gauged her correctly. This fathering stuff wasn't so hard.   


Dinner was Seifer's infamous roasted lemon pepper chicken (he always called it his "quick and easy masterpiece"). And she ate it. She ate everything on her plate. She devoured the chicken, the salad, the dinner rolls, and went back for seconds. When the mint and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream cake was brought onto the table in honor of her first official visit home, she felt as though she were about to faint. Ice cream, weakness of gods and men--and her. Especially with cookie dough.   
She laid there on her bed, feeling too full to move. She wasn't normally a person to eat that much. But it was... so good. And so tempting. _And so emotionally fulfilling_, she laughed. She'd come up to her room to gather a few more articles of clothing and other various artifacts to pack and bring back with her, but she hadn't made it to the closet. Oh well, it was nice just to lay there.   
But it wouldn't make the food digest any easier. She sat up with a bit of a struggle and finally got down to the packing. Distantly she wondered just how the hell she would ever be able to move out of Garden, considering she had plans on visiting every weekend, and there was little doubt from time to time she'd want to bring something else back with her or get another present offered. In the end, it wasn't particularly important. It would only be a major problem if she got expelled and had to get out fast.   
She snickered at that last thought, looking down at her new boots resting beside the closet door. Ass kicking boots, indeed. She'd found out sometime in grade school that she had a kick like a mule; or rather, an unfortunate asshole had brought her to that discovery. Lucky thing (for him) she was wearing sneakers and not steel toed boots back then. What she would give to "run into" him at this point in time, though...   
A gentle rap at her door brought her out of her violent imaginings. "Kyrie?" Seifer called. "Are you descent?"   
She'd always known that to be a trick question. "Enough." The door creaked open slowly as though her father were timid. _Wow, two parent-daughter chats in one day. I might burn out soon._ She thought, watching him close the door behind him.   
Taking the way she was silently watching him as an open invitation, he sat beside her on the bed. They'd had a great many chats this way together. But never over something of this caliber. "So this Rodger..." Seifer began as seriously as any discussion of a deadly illness, "How is he?"   
There were a number of ways she could answer. And just as many ways to interpret his true intent behind the simplistic wording. Decidedly, there was one safe answer, so she thought. "Good."   
There was a reassuring smile on his face as he nodded. "I have no doubt you'd drop him flat if he ever made you... 'uncomfortable'." He paused, a feeling of pride seeming to overwhelm him for a moment. "I heard about the 'incident' in the cafeteria."   
In a split second, this train raced through her mind: _What else did Quistis tell him? No, she wouldn't dare tell him she purchased a case of prophylactics for me. But how much _was_ said? How much did she know? Rodger's life is in a hell of a lot more danger than mine. The subject wouldn't have gone from punching an asshole to that, would it? No, Quistis knows better than that. She's protective, but she understands that sort of thing. And she doesn't want to see us dead. I hope._ But it came out as, "Oh."   
His grin was nearly devastating. "We just called her to get Selphie's number. And she told us we ought to be proud of your right hook, while putting on the front of punishment. So, no sausage tomorrow. Just bacon. I hope you learned a valuable lesson here."   
"Oh, I did." His daughter assured straight-faced. "Absolutely."   
"Seriously, now..." her father lowered his voice, "He treats you well?"   
"He does." She responded absolutely honestly.   
"Apparently he wasn't scared off by your obvious show of strength."   
"You really don't have anything to worry about." Kyrie assured gently. "But I appreciate the effort."   
Seifer smiled. "Well, alright then. Come down and watch TV?"   
"Of course." She chimed. "Quality time with Da and Pa. Who could ask for anything more?"   
A slight smirk met that question. "If you're not careful, you won't get pancakes, either."   
  
  


She stretched her legs out, fully aware she had about twenty minutes before she arrived back at the train station in Trabia. Then it was an unfortunately short walk right back into Garden. For a whole week's worth of "learning". Oh fucking joy.   
With a slight yawn, she readjusted herself again. Why the hell had they let her convince them to take the much later than planned night train? _If_ she chose to sleep when she got into her dorm, she'd only have about two hours before she had to get up for classes (taking into consideration the vast amount of time needed for her to wake up again after only two hours). Not that she actually wouldn't take advantage of that opportunity. Two hours was two hours.   
Oh well. It had been quite the wonderful almost-weekend she'd ever spent at home. Different. In a good way. Very calm. Very... assuring. And so incredibly normal feeling. That was the astounding thing. It felt like the ideal; a picture of what should have been but never was. Comfortable.   
Saying good-bye again kinda sucked, though. She'd be back next week, sure, but... that just didn't help matters. Now that things were going well, she wanted to stay. But she wasn't sure how Rodger would react to that. Snickering quietly at that thought, she wondered if he'd been waiting for her. She'd taken it upon herself to leave a message on Quistis' voice mail about her early morning arrival, but made no mention of telling Rodger about it. Knowing Quistis, though, she did. And would have anyway, regardless.   
Ah, there was the station up ahead. She could just make it out by squinting. The horror, the agony, the possibility. Class. Ugh. She grasped the carry-on bag she'd convinced the conductor to allow on board and made note of the few items she'd brought back with her. Nothing big, just various odds and ends. It was always best to be ready to dart off the train rather than have to wait for everyone else to stumble out at this time of morning.   
With the clanking and squeaking of the brakes as they pulled in, she bolted. First to the door, she glanced back. Most of the passengers were still asleep. Those that weren't looked terribly tired, with bags under their eyes and a cup of coffee at their lips. That started to sound like a great idea...   
"All out!" buzzed over the speakers, the doors hissing open. The moment her feet hit pavement, she saw a waving figure over by the newsstand on the other side of the platform.   
She smiled at the satisfaction of guessing correctly about her aunt. After seeing them together, Quistis must have been ecstatic. Certainly enough to give them whatever help she could possibly offer. Were Kyrie not such a model citizen, she might take advantage of that. That thought made her smile wider as she closed the gap between them.   
Regardless of only having one small bag, Rodger took it in a gentlemanly manner. "Well?"   
"They want to know when you're coming for dinner." She grinned, hugging him.   
He returned the hug, glad to see her again. "Now, I can handle one parent thinking I'm cute. But two? That's a little much."   
She laughed so hard she had to count on Rodger to hold her up for a moment. The mental pictures... "Well, so far you're approved of. So they don't want you dead. Just yet."   
"That's almost reassuring. How was... well, everything?"   
"Much better than I was expecting, frankly. And with you?"   
"Same." He admitted, leading their walk out of the station. "Ma seems a lot happier than before. And I got new underwear." He rolled his eyes slightly.   
"Sweet." Kyrie joked. "I got new boots, which is almost as good."   
Rodger stopped to look as she did a little model spin for him. They looked... dangerous. "Is that supposed to signify something?"   
"Hell yes." She joked breathily.   


Upon re-entering Trabia Garden, they realized that they were not the only students who had snuck away from the place to go back home. Those few who were up at this hour were wandering like aimless zombies, up and down the halls, staying clear of the escalators. There wasn't a bright eye in the place, not to mention anyone walking faster than a snail's pace, or in a straight line. Lots of yawns and murmurs in place of conversation.   
And then Kyrie caught Quistis standing just outside of the dorm hallway, monitoring the students. Almost right away, her aunt made eye contact. And then it almost seemed that the instructor was trying to sneak away from her...   
Kyrie gave Rodger a wink, then proceeded in her usual torturous manner. "Quistis!" she called very clearly. Now everyone knew that if Instructor Trepe turned or walked the other way, it was blatant avoidance. She didn't really have much of a choice other than to come over to the one who called her.   
"Some real work there, Quisty." Her niece commented quietly, more or less referring to all of the "happenings" of the past couple of days.   
Her aunt smirked, but with good humor. "I had a fifty/fifty chance everything would be alright. I decided to take it." She placed her hands on her hips, changing the subject. "And I'll bet you didn't get any sleep."   
"I got an hour on the train." Kyrie dismissed.   
Quistis shook her head, giving her a shaming click of her tongue. "Good thing we're only discussing duties of government today."   
"Great." Rodger breathed through gritted teeth.   


Completely disregarding sleep altogether, Kyrie and Rodger had "breakfast" in the cafeteria. Actually, it was more like two pieces of toast and jam or honey; whatever you had on your table at the time. A far cry from the breakfast bar at the station, yes, but they were both still quite well fed from weekends at home. And everyone else in the sparsely populated cafeteria was still suffering from terrible lack of sleep, meaning conversation was quiet and minimal. It was nice to hang out there until they absolutely _must_ get ready for class.   
Random topics of interest passed back and forth between them. Just comments on the comforts of home, and how Garden... lacked them. Nothing big. Nothing important. But it was nice all the same. Strangely like they'd never been apart for more than an hour or so.   
When it was finally time to get ready for three hours of government hell before the mere possibility of lunch in the same environment, they wandered through the half-dead sleep zombies to their respective dorm rooms. Kyrie really didn't have a lot to do; she'd already showered before she left. She changed her clothes anyway, though, just in case. It was going to be a long day. A really long, really hard to tolerate day.   


"Hyne, the _homework_..." Rodger groaned, trying to get as far away from the classroom as quickly as possible.   
Kyrie agreed with a slight hiss. "I fucking _hate_ algebra." She was instantly aware of her curse, her eyes darting around to see if there was an instructor listening. Luckily, no one had given her a dirty look or called her name. "At least we have an excuse to do homework together tonight."   
"Actually..." he began, quickly pulling her into the opening of a relatively abandoned hallway, "I thought we could do... something else."   
She gave him a flat stare, at which he grinned widely. "No, no. I don't mean _that_." He assured. "But something... special."   
_Hm. Something special._ She was enticed. And a little concerned, but she let that part slide off like water. "Sounds interesting." She pressed.   
He only nodded. "I just have to finish arranging a couple of things. Then I'll pick you up about 8:00."   
Now this was interesting. Very hush-hush, apparently. "And what should I be wearing to this secret location?"   
Only the most mild of blushes crossed his face as he pictured a few "outfits". "That, um... that red shirt. With the laces."   
"And no back." She finished for him with a devious grin.   
"That's the one." He agreed. "And don't eat until then."   
That caused the raising of an eyebrow. "If you insist."   
"Good." He smiled. "Now, may I walk you to your room?"   
She only nodded, a slightly suspicious smile on her lips. Just what the hell _was_ he planning? Dinner? Should she really even try to question him further? It was a surprise, after all. Also explained why he didn't eat much at lunch; as though either of them would, anyway.   


Having gotten dressed and looking to waste some time before getting picked up, Kyrie rummaged through the bag she'd brought back with her. One thing she'd been sure to pack was a photo; a family picture taken when she was about ten years old. Seifer was on one side of her, holding her hand and laughing. Squall was on the other, trying desperately hard not to cross his arms, looking fed up with everything. It amused her. It reminded her. It made the comfort, the naturalness of what had transpired since then feel all that more amazing.   
There was a second picture she'd found in her drawer at home and packed that she'd nearly forgotten about. This one was a year or two later than the first, and a _real_ family photo. Squall looked exactly the same, only with a different shirt. Seifer was making one of his patented Christmas card faces, apparently having made her laugh so hard her eyes were closed when the flash went off. Oh well. On Squall's other side stood Elle, giving him bunny ears. And, next to her, Laguna was leaned up heavily against Kiros (caught mid eye rolling), arm around him, piss drunk. Finally, looking very innocent next to Seifer, Quistis stood tall and straight with her hands lightly cupped together in front of her. Later it would be discovered that she was the one responsible for Laguna's "state", having dared him to drink however many shots in thirty seconds. It was also learned, much later still, that Quistis had done just as many shots.   
Just looking at the photo made her laugh out loud. Then another strange an interesting thought came to mind; where would Rodger and Selphie fit into that picture?   
She winced a moment later, that last thought seeming to have come from nowhere. What, was she insane? Her first boyfriend, thinking he was a part that belonged for long enough to take a picture..? She looked at the photo again, seeing _exactly_ where they would be in her mind's eye. Selphie would be nestled between Seifer and Quistis, giggling. And herself... she and Rodger would be in the middle, all grown up. Squall would probably have a slightly less harsh look on his face; though she imagined he'd probably be looking at Rodger suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.   
She giggled to herself, wondering just how that photo session would go. Not smoothly, she was certain. Selphie might get in on the drinking games, though.   
Was that a lofty sigh that had just escaped her? She put the photos on the desk, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. It really was love, wasn't it? Sort of eerie. Not in a bad way, but... whoah.   
A knock from the door. _A little early_, she commented to herself, reading quarter to 8:00 on the clock. She took only a moment to adjust the laces, making sure they were _tight_. Not that she didn't trust Rodger, of course, but should they be headed anywhere "public", she'd rather not have it all hanging out at just the wrong moment. (The right moment was another story, of course.)   
Upon opening the door, she felt shocked, taking a good look at him from the doorway. It was nothing exceptionally fancy or anything, but it was so... not Rodger. Dress pants, new shoes, _white_ shirt and a _black_ dining jacket. She already felt a little out of place with her ass kicking boots. She felt like she ought to have a fan or some silk gloves or something. Hell, even a snooty accent.   
His eyes followed her line of vision with a subtle grin. "You like?"   
"I do. Is that you, Rodger?" she joked, stepping back so he could step inside for a minute.   
He walked in eagerly, closing the door behind him. "Yes, it's me. I don't clean up often, but when I do..." he stopped to present her with--   
"Another muffin." She laughed, grateful.   
"Did you like the last one?" he slowly "wandered" to the bed, sitting down.   
She took a moment, noticing his playful expression. "It tasted less like health food that it should have, since _you_ gave it to me."   
"That's so damn sweet." He commented, looking at her with a devious smile. He didn't _plan_ anything, but they _had_ had a nice time sitting on her bed _before_...   
Carefully placing the muffin on the desk, she teasingly sat on the foot of the bed, just within reach if he leaned over. She was actually a little surprised when he boldly grasped hold of her shoulders and pulled her toward him, but part of her was quite glad for the "take control" attitude of the situation. At least, for now. "I don't think eight o'clock is a good time to see if we'll get away with this sort of thing..." she joked.   
"Oh, I'm just preparing you for a... later time." He released her, both to salvage his arms from possible destruction, and to assure her he wasn't _really_ going to force anything. But he did want to try his hand out at this kink thing. If only for his own sick need to see if he really could shock the hell out of her.   
But on some level, she understood this. And she was just sadistic enough to not only break it off, but change direction completely. She reached out to the desk where the photos were, grasping them with her fingertips. "Care for some pictures of home?"   
He glared at her. It wasn't a serious glare, but it was definitely the beginnings of one. So this wasn't going to be so easy. Fine, alright, he'd play along until he thought of something. The first photo, of just she and her parents, made him grin. But the second made him chuckle.   
"And here's the amazing part..." Kyrie interrupted gently, placing the first photo on top of the second. She flipped back and forth between the two. "Squall is exactly the same in both pictures. It's disturbing."   
Rodger's laughter became full-blown as he realized it was fact. "Do you have any more examples?"   
"I'm sure I could find some next time I visit." She promised.   
"Well..." he pulled the old "stretch your arms over your head then lower them so that one catches the girl's shoulder" routine, "We ought to get going to the secret location."   
"Do I have to be blindfolded?" she teased.   
"I don't think I could get away with it." He admitted. "No, but you do have to walk with me out of the Garden."   
"_Out_ of Garden?" she feigned shock. Only a beat between sentences, she added, "Okay, let's go."   
Rodger led the way, holding her hand lightly. He insisted upon no hints and no guesses, but that she would _probably_ appreciate the result. Her curiosity increased with every shop or coffee house they passed. Not that it was that long of a walk or anything, but they even went past the train station. Sad though it was, she hadn't even been past the station. Never had a chance, though.   
Finally, taking a small pathway in the middle of a very well kept garden, Rodger stopped in front of a large, dark building. It wasn't _dark_ in the sense of dangerous or unwelcoming, but rather in a very comfortable sort of way. The front of the building had huge, darkly tinted windows, letting only the slightest glow of candlelight emanate from the inside. And the doorway itself was guarded by a man in a very expensive suit and white satin gloves.   
Kyrie was stunned to silence. She gave the doorman a polite nod as he opened the door to see them through, but she was just... too taken aback to react at first. Another man in an even more expensive looking suit (sans the gloves) stood at the end of the little entrance alcove, giving them a look.   
Rodger walked up to him right away, stating, "Kinneas, two."   
The man looked about twice as shocked as Kyrie felt. She didn't think they were _that_ obviously out of place, but it must have shown. Well... fuck the rich, pretentious fucks, then. She'd still give him a halfway polite smile. Regardless of the reaction, he led them through two large rooms, all decorated with the same dark wood with dark green trim and carpet until finally directing them toward their table for two, complete with a burning candle and two wine glasses. Then he took his leave, quickly, as if they could rub off if he stayed there too long.   
Kyrie waited until the guy was well out of sight and the staring crowd returned to their quiet conversations. "Shit, Rodger." She cleared her throat and lowered her voice, feeling several well-to-do eyes on her. "I've just... never been to a place like this."   
He grinned, pulling the chair out for her. "Me either." He admitted in a whisper. "So I thought we'd try."   
"I thought money was an issue." She whispered, sitting down.   
"It was." He admitted, pushing the chair gently. "But then Ma said she wanted no better early birthday present than for us to scare the hell out of people like this."   
Kyrie giggled darkly. Selphie was still pretty fucking cool, after all. She gingerly flipped through the black covered menu with gold trim, finding very little that she could eat. And almost nothing she could pay for, though she couldn't confirm that; there were absolutely no prices on her menu. She gave a disgusted look to her date over the menu pages.   
He grinned back. "Find anything edible?"   
"Yeah, I think so." She flipped in the back for the deserts. Lots of fancy shit. But there did appear to be "regular" stuff, too. Cake, pie, ice cream. And lots of alcoholic beverages. She assumed you'd have to be a lush to stand this kind of lifestyle for long...   
An older gentleman in a black suit with those damn white gloves bowed, hands behind his back, and greeted them. "Sir, madam. Are we ready to order?"   
The couple exchanged glances. From the waiter's sideways look at "madam", Kyrie assumed she ought to go first. "Fillet minion. Medium rare. And does that happen to come with french fries?" she balanced a very well-to-do accent with her humorous request.   
The waiter seemed to sigh internally. "We do have potato wedges, madam."   
"Those, then." She threw a mildly triumphant look across the table.   
Rodger tried to keep himself composed. "You know, that sounds good. I'll have the same. Medium, though."   
The waiter appeared to gnaw at his bottom lip slightly. "Potato wedges for you too, sir?"   
"Oh, definitely."   
Scribbling some things down upon his black covered note pad with his black and gold pen, the waiter quickly took his leave. No doubt to wash the stench of commoners off of his gloves.   
Rodger grinned widely and leaned in as the waiter walked away. "Filet minion? The lady orders a slab of medium rare beef?"   
Kyrie couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I know what I want."   
That only got a toothy, devious expression out of her date. It was probably better he didn't say anything he was thinking at such a restaurant.   
"Do you think people feel special with monocles?" she asked out of the blue.   
Rodger choked on his water and pretended he was coughing rather than laughing.   
"I mean, really." She kept going, unswayed by a couple of bitter glances in their direction. "Is one lens somehow far superior than two?"   
Oh, what the hell. It wasn't like they would ever be in a place like this again. "It must be the ability to see out of one eye at a time. Not everyone can do that."   
Their giggling was interrupted by a separate waiter, standing there as patiently as he dared with a pitcher. Quietly, he poured ice water into their wine glasses and left.   
"I guess they know we're not going to be looking at the wine list." Rodger commented.   
"Oh, we'll _look_..." Kyrie trailed off, seeing their waiter walking out of one of the rooms they had passed to get to their seats with two large plates. Looked like steak, and he was coming right for them. "Wow. Maybe the service balances out the ridiculous prices."   
"Or maybe they just want us out." He countered, lowering his voice as the man stepped up to their table.   
"Medium rare." The waiter placed her plate in front of her. "And medium." He equaled the motion on the other side of the table and simply _left_.   
"We ought to be loud and obnoxious _everywhere_ we go." Rodger commented.   
"We _are_." His date grinned widely, taking a steak knife and ever so gently creating a shallow cut in the meat. Red-brown blood trickled out just a little, dripping down the sides.   
Her date made a bit of a face. "I'm not sure how you can eat that."   
"Hot, fresh, still moving." She gave him a devious little expression and continued to cut.   
Rodger followed her lead. It really was an excellent steak. Both of theirs, in fact. Tender, cooked to perfection, large portions. And the potato wedges, while seasoned a little more than they cared for, were still pretty good. The dipping sauce was a far cry from cheap ketchup, but it worked with the meal.   
"Desert?" Kyrie suggested just as she'd placed her knife and fork across her plate.   
Her date stared at her for a moment. It was confirmed; she could eat. And she didn't mind packing it away. Especially with the thought of Garden cafeteria fare for the rest of the week. "Why not?"   
Regardless of wanting to be rid of them, their waiter was in earshot. The more they ate, the better the money he made. He considered himself to have little choice but to wait on them again. "Desert?" he inquired, pad and pen in hand.   
Kyrie immediately made her choice clear. "Three layer chocolate cake with," she held two fingers up, "_Two_ scoops of vanilla ice cream on the side."   
The waiter looked mildly shocked by the request, but of course jotted down her order anyway. "And you, sir?"   
"Apple pie." Rodger chimed. "And two scoops of vanilla for me, too."   
"Hyne knows we need _something_ vanilla." Kyrie commented seriously.   
It was not to last. As the waiter walked swiftly away from the pair, they broke down in unapologetic chuckles. One snooty couple got up and walked out, having finished their meal ages ago. What they were still doing sitting at the table in silence, she didn't care. She was glad to be rid of their dirty looks.   
Desert, when it arrived almost a whole two minutes later, was spectacular. A real production. Even the ice cream looked fancy as hell. At least it tasted like the "common stuff". Sure the portions were small, but that was fine. They exchanged looks over the eating of the ice cream, once going so far as to feed one another from each others' spoons, prompting another fit of laughter and some exceptionally dirty glances.   
At last completely and utterly finished, Rodger winked at his date. "Watch this." From his pocket, he produced a credit card. Then he held it above his head, making a little flittering sound against the card with his fingernail.   
The waiter was instant in coming. Kyrie snickered quietly as he went to the register to take care of the bill. "Pretty impressive trick."   
"Amazing what you can learn from television." He commented, getting up from his chair. As gentlemanly as he dared, he walked over and took his date's hand, lifting her.   
"I see what you mean." She teased.   
Their waiter attempted to maintain the composure he had achieved all evening, handing the credit card back to the commoner without touching him in any way. He seemed repulsed even by the fact they had touched the carpet, let alone sat in the chairs. But then maybe that look was plastered onto his face from some incident, long ago. Or, scarier still, it may well have _actually been_ his face.   
The couple walked out without a word, grinning from ear to ear, full and feelin' fine. Back to Garden. It was an unspoken understanding that homework was not going to get done tonight. But that was alright. Quistis had offered to go over the government lessons again tomorrow, and the algebra stuff could be done at lunch. Besides, they weren't going to eat anyway. It was a fun and lovely end to a very interesting evening. And, being full makes you kinda tired, anyway.   
Back inside Garden, all was relatively quiet for only 10:00 at night. Apparently everyone else was suffering from homework, as well. All the better for them, walking comfortably down the hall to Kyrie's room. She punched the unlock code into the panel and turned around, grinning, wondering what his next move may be. "Well, thanks for the entertainment."   
He smiled back, trying very hard to fake shyness. "Only glad to oblige."   
"Tomorrow, then." She suggested with a wry smile threatening to break through. As had become their custom, she merely turned to enter into her room.   
Rodger caught her arm and gently spun her back around. "Oooooone more thing."   
Somehow elated, her interest was piqued. "Yes?"   
A glimmer of hope and daring entered his eyes. "I have to tell you..."   
An alarm sounded in her mind. _Oh my... I think it's..._ "That you love me and you think we ought to be together for a long time?" She broke in quietly, almost jokingly.   
He blinked. "Way to ruin a surprise, Kyrie."   
At that moment, the elation washed the confusion completely out of her system. Her instincts were right on. She threw her arms around him and offered up her heart for quite possibly the first time in her life. "Well, good. I love you, too."   
He laughed at her enthusiasm, holding her close. "I'm glad you made it easy." He released her, holding her softly at arm's length. "But that wasn't right." He cleared his throat, summoning his courage, trying not to let his voice quiver at all. Squeezing her shoulders gently, he announced, "I love you, Kyrie."   
She smiled sincerely, tilting her head to the side just a little, a strand of hair falling over one eye. "I love you too, Rodger. But you knew that already."   
He smiled brightly, pulling her in for another hug. The suspicions of both sides were confirmed. Utterly and completely. It _was_ love. And it wasn't as scary a thing as they had thought at first.   
They pulled back from each other only long enough for a goodnight kiss. It was slow and sweet, but there was just a touch of urgency there. Not like _that_, but certainly a romantic desire. Not tonight, though. Tonight, he night would end this perfectly. And tomorrow... well, tomorrow would sure as hell be interesting.   
"I will see you in the morning." He promised softly.   
"You better." She whispered. Just one more short, small kiss. She backed into her dorm room and waved as the door slid closed.   
Was that a... a flutter? Or a heart attack? No, it was a flutter. This would take time to sink in, she was absolutely certain. Her hand rose to the light switch, but faltered. No, she didn't want to turn on the lights yet. She wanted to sit in the dark for a moment without any sensory input, just to lock this moment away in her memory. Then to go over it again and again, to see if it were real.   
Then she heard a crinkle and a bump. Oops. She must have knocked the muffin to the floor by accident. She couldn't get away with that now, certainly. Turning around to find it in the dark, she encountered quite a different thing altogether.   
In that tangle of a second, her mind waded through the shock and adrenaline to try and make sense of things. Green eyes? She didn't know anyone with eyes that emerald green. And certainly not like that; not those glowing cat eyes, staring at her through a curtain of silver. So calm and so frightening at the same time, a storm of terrified vengeance...   
And then it was _gone_. Just, absolutely, gone. _Everything_ was gone. Consciousness ceased to exist altogether. Total darkness was her reality and her only memory. 


	7. Chapter 7

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. It's innuendo city in this chapter, though. Spooky.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 7   
by Orin Drake 

The blackness faded into gray slowly, like watching an old computer screen struggle to light up. From gray it finally turned flesh toned, and took on a feeling. Consciousness; it's not something you know you're missing until you wake to it.   
She opened her eyes slowly, feeling just the last part of an unnatural weakness flow from her muscles. Sluggishly forcing herself to sit up, it took only a momentary sweep of her surroundings to know she was in an inn of some sort. A very expensive one by the look of things. The lamps, the fancy vases, sofas, soft bedding, two tables, a desk in the corner; she had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't in Garden anymore.   
_Shit_, she swallowed. Where the hell was she? Not even the smell of the room was familiar. Glancing to the side, she noticed the large front window was wide open, shutters dancing lazily and catching shards of late afternoon light in a warm breeze. She was in a place warmer than Trabia, that much was certain. But as for where, why, and what had happened...   
And then something by the window moved. It had looked so perfectly pristine she'd mistaken it for a decorative statue; instead, it was a man with his back to her, dressed in a long black coat with perfectly silver hair. His body remained still but his head had turned, making his ankle length hair shimmer with the sunlight. Then those eyes. Those emerald green cat eyes. Beautiful, but sinister. The ones she'd seen before the blackness.   
For once, she was struck totally dumb. Words were usually her way out, but even those failed to work. Strange place, strange man, and apparently a lot of lost time. Not good.   
The man forced a flat smile and finally turned, walking toward her. She was taken for a moment by his graceful gait, an almost royal feel in his motions. Even so, dressed head to toe in highly flexible black leather, even covering his hands and arms, he was a threatening sight. The small amount of skin he showed was exceptionally pale, and the dull ivory complexion against the black clothes almost made him appear to be a ghostly vision.   
When he sat on the edge of the bed, it was all too real for her. Too real, and too weird for words.   
"Well?" he whispered smoothly.   
_What the fuck does he want?_ "Well, what?" a hint of annoyance was clear in her voice.   
His diplomatic air gave way to a more forceful one. His eyes narrowed slightly, and there was no invitation about his suggestion. "Well, get up."   
For a moment in time, she didn't give a damn who the lunatic was or what he'd planned on or already done with her. She glared at him silently, her mind finally firing back up to logical thinking. Turning her back on him was not an option. Neither was humoring him. Well, not entirely. She could take him by surprise, maybe. But he was watching her, closely. More closely than she'd ever felt watched in her life; that was saying quite a lot. Then again, there was nothing she could do just sitting on a bed. She may as well obey. Slowly, she slid her legs off from the side opposite the lunatic, careful to continue facing him. With slow steps, she made her way to the foot of the bed, closer to him, arms at her sides.   
His eyes were on her the whole time, taking in every detail. It went far and beyond just that; her motion, her heartbeat, her body temperature were all viable sources for judging how much of a bother she could become. She was a fighter, that was clear. But she was not entirely expert, or entirely ready for everything that could be thrown her way. He stood remarkably suddenly, stepping toward her.   
She hadn't really the time to think. She was trying to look innocent, useless and exceptionally feminine while at the same time preparing herself for an all-out tooth and claw battle when he'd dashed with one powerful stride toward her and grasped Griever.   
"Who gave you this?" he demanded violently, tearing the necklace from her, snapping the chain.   
The strength it took to yank the chain to the breaking point caused a bruising pain in the back of her neck. She hissed at him, intense anger surfacing. She didn't give a fuck who he was. He broke her father's most sacred possession. _Her_ most sacred possession. "It was my dad's."   
A nearly sinful smile crossed the madman's face. "Your father's? You're a Leonhart?"   
"And an Almasy." She spat, trying to rip Griever out of his hands. To hell with the chain, the pendant was most important.   
He smacked her hand away with force. "And an Almasy?" he repeated, unbelieving. He suddenly erupted into a hellish laugh that made goose bumps rise on her arms. "Leonhart _and_ Almasy. Now that is interesting."   
She wasn't fucking around with this lunatic. She sent a fist flying into his solar plexus. It was enough to cause him to gasp sharply and release Griever, but it certainly wasn't enough to aid her escape. He straightened almost immediately, picking her up by the shoulders and throwing her into the nearest wall.   
Pain exploded throughout her lower back and head, a dull blackness followed by flashes of bright white becoming her whole landscape for a short time. She came to completely only seconds later, when the silver haired freak had smacked her unceremoniously across the face. She tasted the blood, but was left with a burning numbness. It didn't matter. She had Griever in her hand. The most important thing.   
"Stand up." The man demanded firmly, but calmly.   
_"No."_, she'd have liked to have responded. But pain like _that_ wasn't exactly her forte. Instead, she wisely kept her mouth shut and did as he asked, placing Griever obviously enough in her pocket. Pressing her weight against the wall _hurt_ in little waves up and down her back, but she couldn't trust herself to stand on her own. There was a pulsating emotion that invaded every sensation in her body, and she didn't like it at all. It was a sort of helpless rage, closely related to fear.   
The man stared at her conspicuously, slowly roaming his eyes from top to bottom. He measured her up in a number of ways; most notably that smell of close to desperate fear. It certainly wasn't the strongest he'd ever smelled out of a creature, but it was there. Complete advantage--somehow the daughter of Leonhart and Almasy, unarmed, weakened--that he welcomely took advantage of.   
Kyrie had let her emotion control the rest of her. That was a no-no in such a situation, and she knew it. She cursed herself with the fires of hell mentally as she distantly saw the destructive glimmer in her captor's eyes. She couldn't have avoided it, then; he'd grasped one wrist already and had successfully captured the other, binding them tightly in one fist. She thrashed as she felt the heat of his body against her in an instant, and cursed herself more thoroughly for allowing him to pin her legs against the wall with his own.   
That look of half-amused victory washed over every fiber of his being as he caught her eyes, gloating. Fun to be had, with this one. He'd thought as much, swiftly wrapping his free hand over her mouth. "You're older than they were when I indulged in their flesh..." he hissed into her ear, several strands of his hair lightly brushing over her cheek. "It's been so long since I've touched any living body..."   
She didn't even hear him. She just bit into his hand, not stopping until her teeth came together.   
He grunted, releasing her wrists with a painful squeeze and digging his strong fingers into the back of her neck. He couldn't feel pain like he used to. It was there, certainly, but it didn't affect him in the same way. It faded so quickly these days. But he certainly remembered that other creatures could feel it.   
Even with the unbelievable pressure and pain, she didn't release until she got a mouthful of his blood. There was a primal satisfaction in that, in making him bleed even as he strove to hurt her. His blood _tasted good_. Only as her vision returned to polka dots of gray and white did she finally release, and even then it wasn't entirely on purpose. He'd begun leaning against her chest, constricting her oxygen to the point where she bordered on consciousness. This point between awareness and unconsciousness was becoming a little too familiar.   
As her teeth released, so too did the hand on the back of her neck. It moved, instead, to the front, holding her against the wall but giving little pressure to her airway. The man quietly inspected his glove with a blank expression, not too thrilled to have it pierced by teeth of all damned things. Certainly not by his supposed victim. "That was rude." He commented.   
Kyrie caught her breath and stared bitterly at the psycho. Unfortunately, his legs still prevented her own from driving a knee through his intestines. Being rather a victim for so long, one learns the ultimate victim's defense move swiftly. Her hands were free, but a lot of good that would do with his hand on her neck. As much as she hated to do so, as stupid as it outright seemed, she dropped her arms to her sides and waited for his next move.   
"Good girl." He slowly lifted his hand from her neck, but did not let his guard down. Nor did he back away from her right away. She'd proven fast; not fast enough to take him when he had his goals in mind, but certainly fast enough to gain the advantage if he let an ounce of guard slip. She had been taught by his own students, she had damn well better be fast.   
There were a million questions beating around in her head. But none of them surfaced above another. And she wasn't sure if she should waste the breath to ask them. No doubt he wouldn't answer. She wouldn't be able to pick a single question out of the long list to start with, anyway. But really, what the fuck was going on?   
He backed away fluidly, but not out of anything resembling mercy. Not fear, either. He simply sat on the bed, regarding her as she stood there, glaring back, looking him over just as thoroughly. His eyes were glowing with an insane lust of... something Kyrie didn't understand. She'd never quite seen that look on anyone before. It was quite unnerving to say the least. Finally he spoke, his voice soft and smooth though he were almost trying to calm her down. "Are you a virgin?"   
She was struck dumb at that, completely. What the hell kind of a thing is that to ask her? "You are one hell of a prick." She commented outright; obviously without giving it much thought.   
This time he only looked at her, blankly. He didn't so much as raise his hand to warn her, or give her a dramatically cutting glare. Just looked at her, took several normal breaths, then commented in an offhanded sort of way, "I nearly destroyed a world. But I cannot seem to control a single, mortal, rambunctious young cunt."   
Her temper flared like it never had before; in a very gentle, polite manner. "Maybe you just aren't trying hard enough."   
He moved so inhumanly fast that she had no time to react; but she really should have been expecting it by then. He slammed his open hands against her shoulders, knocking her back against that fucking wall. He then pinned her again, heavier, harder with his body as she fought the loss of air in her lungs and the pain in her head, both hands tightly around her neck. "You don't know what you invite..." his lips pulled back in an animal growl.   
Regardless of barely being able to talk, let alone her coherence for such activity under the circumstances, she gasped, "Save it." Her intelligence in the field of battle had completely fallen away to her stubborn nature.   
He squeezed harder, his mouth right next to his ear. He whispered harshly, "Don't think _you_ are immortal because my students survived Ultimecia."   
"Your... students?" even with the impending loss of consciousness, she couldn't help but be appalled and curious at the same time.   
His grin bared all of his teeth like a mad animal. "A Leonhart _and_ an Almasy, you claim. They were both my students. I taught them how to fight." He looked away for a moment, seething. "I had hoped they would have chosen to stay with me... but, I suppose, boys will be boys." He slowly released her throat and let her lean limply against the wall.   
She coughed, gasping for air as she steadied her legs underneath her. For whatever reason, the man before her allowed her time to catch her breath without interruption. She was about to blow that chance. "Maybe they would agree that you're a psycho."   
"Shut your filthy mouth, girl. I could have been a god..." he growled.   
She scoffed openly. A god? Him? He looked no older than her parents for one thing, perhaps younger. "You never could have been a god. You were born a man."   
"I was _born_ a god." He hissed. "I was _made_ a man."   
She threw her hands up into the air and met his tone exactly. "And now you're a fucking lunatic."   
The malice in his eyes were enough to shush her for the moment. "I can be a god again. I have the _ambition_, the _drive_, the _intelligence_ of a god..."   
"You certainly _bleed_ like a man." She commented, infuriated and just a bit unsettled at his words. As if she hadn't been thrown around enough already, she felt the air rush from her lungs, saw the room spin amongst the green cat eyes that pierced her.   
He pulled her away from the wall then slammed her right back against it, trying to drive his point home. "Aren't you sick of this wall _yet_?"   
"I'll let you know." She spat back, trying desperately to ignore the bruises already covering her. They'd only get larger and darker with every one of her comments. But she could take it. She was sure she could take some bruises. She just wouldn't be able to wear that shirt again anytime soon.   
The fists that held her grew even more taunt, then suddenly shivered, then slackened. His eyes blinked twice, totally losing their vicious sheen. They were still his eyes, alright. And they were still just as unnaturally green as they always had been. But they were so different, somehow. So... pure. Untainted. Like an entirely different entity altogether. "Help me..." he begged in a whisper, shaking her. "Help me, please..." A child's voice hidden behind that of a man's. It was goddamned unsettling.   
Part of her was violently ill at this sudden raw emotion, wanting to push him away. Another part of her wished she could comfort him; wished she knew how to comfort him. But she couldn't bring herself to believe that it was anything but a trick. Those eyes, though. Those weren't the eyes of a man who'd kidnapped her...   
"Make her let go..." he whispered roughly. He was choking on his own fear, shaking her shoulders in desperation, pleading. "Please, please... make her let... go..."   
She swallowed, not sure she wanted to know the answer. "Her?"   
"Jenova..." the man sobbed like a child threatened by monsters right in front of him.   
The moment that word fell from his lips, she saw his eyes change. It was like they were lit slowly from the inside, those stark child eyes rapidly darkening in one way, brightening in another. The insane "adult" eyes shone back at her in a matter of seconds, the hands that had grasped her for comfort now shoving her away.   
"What magic is this?" he demanded.   
Utter confusion. Magic? Not her, not in this time and place. Being daughter of a sorceress carried only a wives tale of power. Not to mention all the shit that came with it. But he didn't know who her mother was. He didn't even know she was a Leonhart until she'd told him. "Magic doesn't exist anymore." She assured him firmly. "Not since Ultimecia."   
His glare got more harsh with her words, but he seemed to realize she was telling the truth. Maybe he didn't know he was as fucking crazy as he actually was. He finally broke away from her entirely, walking absently to the other end of the room.   
Hm. And now what? She could try to run... but where to? Not that it mattered. Away was away, after all. Slowly, as if she were doing nothing at all but being ever so innocent, she walked around the bed and to the window. Maybe that would give her an indication of where she was in regards to, well, the world.   
Lucky for her the psycho seemed to be preoccupied with his own quiet mumbling. She stood at the window for a few seconds, contemplating just jumping out of it. But with the looks of the cobblestones and the unusually high drop from a second story window (_Each floor must be triple fucking enforced or something_)... it was unlikely she'd do anything but shatter some bones. Then there would be no fucking escape at all. Ever again, most likely. She was pretty damn certain that trying to race him down stairs was a pretty stupid move on her part, too. Not to mention she had the feeling the room door was locked from the outside, for some reason.   
She held back an aggravated growl in her throat and stared at the sky. It was nearly twilight already. Not that it would help much; she wasn't at all knowledgeable in the constellations. But where the fuck _was_ she? It was obviously not Esthar, the ground was covered too lushly with grass and flowers for that. And it was certainly not Trabia, too warm and too many trees. It was pretty fucking obvious it wasn't hot or barren enough to be Centra, either. The hill and valley view extended too far to be Balamb. So, by that logic, she must be somewhere in Galbadia. Great. Lovely. And how did she get there? And what _part_ of Galbadia? It was green, lush, warm with a classy inn. Southern portion? She couldn't smell ocean, but that may not mean much depending upon where the breeze is coming from. Central-ish, maybe? It was definitely the mainland.   
She let a curse fly under her breath. This was fucking useless, trying to guess. She turned slowly to find that freak of an insane psychopath looking at her with a great deal of thought. About what, she knew she didn't want to know.   
When he noticed her looking back, he let an unsettling smile cross his lips. "I suppose it's time to rest up. Big plans for tomorrow."   
Ugh. Kyrie did not like the sound of that. She wasn't tired, first off. She didn't even know how long she'd been unconscious. And just what was he suggesting in the first place? She stared at him, expressionless, waiting for a proper answer to her unspoken questions.   
He walked toward bed but in her direction, as though he weren't the single most hated thing in her existence. "I don't suppose you're going to be a good little girl and just stay cozy here with me, hmm?" a suggestive tone entered his silken voice. "It has its merits, I can assure you."   
Nothing but the most spiteful glare he thought he'd even encountered met that suggestion; and that was truly saying a lot. It made him chuckle to see such a fragile mortal take on a god like she had. Certainly her parents' child. Only stupider. "Suit yourself." He whispered, very softly extending just his fingertips out toward her.   
_Oh sh--_ was about the only reaction she had for that. She felt all of the muscles in her body jam as though overloaded, and the minutes became a blur of jittery, motion-blurred seconds. Magic. It must have been. Something to slow her responses, maybe? When time moved correctly again, she discovered the ultimate danger of being unable to defend herself against magic. She was sitting on the bed, her arms bound tightly behind her back--one atop the other so that her wrists touched the opposite elbows--with rope that obviously did not stretch. Maybe it wasn't rope. It was too tight to really get a feel for it, but just loose enough to not cause her limbs to completely lose circulation. She tried to move her legs to get balance, to find something that would slice whatever this was off of her--discovering that her frye boots had been well taken advantage of. A very long, woven leather rope had securely bound her ankles together, looping in and out of the metal rings for security.   
And that bastard, that fucking lunatic who had done this, was sitting in a small sofa across from her, underneath the window. He was obviously in the process of getting ready for sleep, and she glanced outside at the misty stars. Just how much time had elapsed? Not much by the look of things, but... And what the fuck had happened in the mean time? Swallowing hard but trying not to show her concern, she ever so gently squeezed her legs together. Nothing unusual. Her back still hurt like hell and her shoulders had begun to cramp a little, but that was about it.   
He grinned again at her reaction. Ah, that scent of worry, of fear. It was gratifying. He finished with the buckles of his coat and stood, folding it over the back of the chair.   
He most certainly was not a god, but he was sure as hell sculpted like one. Not overly muscular, but statuesque; certainly enough to intimidate. He certainly could have snapped her neck easily a dozen times by now. She wondered what she was being kept alive for. It was obviously not political, as he hadn't even known her bloodline. It was also pretty obvious he didn't mind hurting her, but why not killing her?   
And then he turned to look at her as he slipped his boots off. That look. That smirk. She was cold. Completely and utterly stone cold. Never in her life had she been so defenseless.   
Slowly he pulled his long gloves off, folding and laying them on the cushion, the bite mark she'd made barely visible. Through all of his slow, deliberate actions, he did not interrupt his gazing at her. So many ways to silence that girl. So many ways to make it sting. He was nearly void of pain, but he hoped he wasn't void of pleasure.   
A very viscous panic was creeping its way down her spine. There was no way she could stop anything he wanted to do with her. No way to prevent it when she couldn't loosen the bonds that held her. It had never been like that before. She'd always had a chance, always a defense. Even if it were her bare hands, that was something. But not here, not this time. All of her trust was left for dead in the frighteningly powerful hands of a psycho.   
He slowly stalked up to her, very lightly sitting beside her on the bed. The guy was literally dripping with sexuality, lined with an undertone of simply bad intentions. He hid none of it from her as he grinned widely, moving his hand to lightly brush against the exposed skin of her back, the bruises making the flesh that much more sensitive. With the other hand, he roughly took a handful of her hair as he forced their lips close, but not touching.   
She only growled. She would not beg for this bastard. Anger replaced fear; but it was still there, waiting in the background.   
"Come on now." He purred. "Be a good girl. Give in to temptation." He moved his hand from her back and softly pressed his thumb between her lips.   
She clamped down hard. A spray of blood splashed against her throat, the metallic taste growing with the intensity of her rage. Again she savored every drop of it, every last indication that she had caused harm to him.   
The man hissed and released her hair in favor of grasping her jaw, squeezing just enough to dislodge her teeth. He took his hand back and shook it, inspecting the dripping crimson. It was nothing compared to her eyes. Driven. Hate filled. The trickle of blood from her lip and the color of her eyes... all of it only served to remind him of another whom he'd unsuccessfully tried to murder in the most pleasurable of ways.   
"You just love to _bite_, don't you?" he pushed her hard onto her stomach, tugged his belt off and and used quite a bit of controlled force to smack her bare back with it. The action left an instant red welt swarming around a trickle of blood.   
Red in a field of black and blue; she must have looked like a fucking national flag by now. She yipped unexpectedly, well over the loud _crack_ of the leather and flesh. Never had her parents needed to use such discipline. She had no idea what to expect, but it hurt a hell of a lot more than a sucker punch. Dazed with the pain, she didn't even struggle as the belt was looped around her head and pulled tightly to act as a gag.   
"No more biting tonight." The man growled, satisfied. He leaned over her, clawing deeply at her shoulder, and ran his tongue slowly along her new wound. Blood for blood, it was only fair. "You just sleep."   
The feeling of his tongue lingering on her flesh, even more heated than the wound itself, sent unwilling shivers through every part of her body. She clenched her teeth together, desperately trying to keep herself from making a single sound. Long after his touch left her body and he walked away, she could still feel it--crawling around on her skin, seeping past her flesh and into her blood stream.   
"And I will be keeping this." He announced, holding her gunblade up just long enough for her to realize she was entirely without it. He dropped it somewhere on the floor on his side of the bed, and she cringed with the careless _"thunk"_ he'd enticed from her weapon.   
_Asshole._ She mumbled inside her head.   


Her eyes were absolutely blazing. Had anyone told her that she would be tied up in a strange man's bed at any point in her life, she'd probably have used another of those famous right hooks. This was unbelievable. She was absolutely pissed. It didn't matter how gorgeous the shirtless man beside her was, or how smooth his voice was even when he murmured and whined with obvious nightmares. What mattered was that she wasn't at all where she wanted to be, with a world class maniac holding her against her will. That bothered her. A lot. He'd had the sense to gag her, which wasn't making her all that happy in itself.   
Three words welled up in her mind: _this isn't fun_. Not that she expected it to be. But after the subtle conversations she'd had with Rodger, she'd hoped her first time tied up next to a guy would be, you know, fun. And just a little more consensual. She simply stared at his back and imagined what it would be like to rip his spine out with her gunblade. Or her bare fucking hands.   
She chose to stare at the silver vase that she could see just over his body on the night stand, instead. It reflected the window, and the calm starry night. How she wished she was out there rather than in this place. She'd rather be at home. And she'd _really_ rather be with Rodger. Hell, she'd rather be eating cafeteria food... alright, not that far, maybe. But close. Her dreaming was interrupted by a sudden flash of yellow.   
She squinted, trying to focus harder on the reflection in the vase. Certainly there were no chocobos running around on the second floor of an inn, right? Then the flash of yellow appeared again. This time with a head attached to it. And bright blue eyes...   
Cloud? From Esthar Airstation? Was that really him crawling through the window? Her captor _had_ to have drugged her. That was the only explanation for this. The shop keeper of a store for mainly cross dressers, with a giant sword, crawling into the window of an inn in which she was being held against her will by a man who thought he was a god... who'd slipped her what? And how could she recover from this reluctant and horrible trip? Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was in hell. Or limbo. Or somewhere really bad.   
He carefully, quietly stepped in through the window, catching a glimpse at the eyes desperately drawing his attention. _"Kyrie?"_ Cloud mouthed silently, seeming to be just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.   
She didn't dare even nod. She wanted out. Now. But she didn't want the freak behind her to wake up in the process. She took a deep breath and hoped he knew what he was doing.   
An absolutely venomous look of hatred washed over his eyes as he glanced at the back of the silver haired man. A connection between the two was obvious, but he left it alone for the moment in favor of untying Kyrie. And that, she was glad about.   
"Sshh." He whispered lightly, unbuckling the belt that gagged her and placing it quietly on the floor. He tried at the knots at her ankles for quite some time before he realized he'd just plain forgotten how to go about this whole thing. Instead, he reached for a small knife in his boot and sliced Ms. Leonhart free. As the last loop was cut, he whispered barely above his breath, "Don't move."   
A cold feeling clasped her chest, but she didn't feel that it had been a threat. She hoped very much that he'd come to actually _help_ her, and chose to put all of her faith into that thought for the moment. She only stared at the lunatic's back, imagining her teeth sinking into him, wanting to hear his scream of pain before she gutted him. She wouldn't mind tasting his blood again, either.   
Cloud was stalking silently around the room, searching for something. Something he was obviously rather annoyed that he couldn't find. He was convinced Sephiroth would never have left Masamune behind, no matter the circumstance.   
With a sudden gasp, the silver haired man turned violently in his sleep with so much force that he rolled atop Kyrie. That in itself actually wouldn't have bothered her. It was the fact that he had some... obvious intentions by the feel of things. He hadn't just rolled on top of her. He was on all fours with one suddenly very snug arm around her, grinding somewhat violently against her and making his intent feel quite clear. Not screaming was easy. She was a little too beyond conscious sounds. But not fighting back was not an option. She grasped both sides where the shoulder and neck met and dug tore with her fingernails.   
His eyes flashed open, overcoming her with their color alone. Surprise and overwhelming malice swam in those depths rather than pain, and it was paralyzing.   
"Sephiroth!" Cloud screamed, his sword already piercing the man's side.   
Kyrie saw the sword appear, bloodied, on the other side of the man's body. The momentum from the power of that hate filled thrust alone was enough to disengage her unwelcome parasite. _Sephiroth..._   
She didn't know how it happened, but it did. Somehow the shock and surprise that was still pressing down inside of her chest just ceased to exist for a moment. She rolled and leapt off the bed on Cloud's side, knowing exactly where her gunblade was. There was no second guessing, no insecurity. She just grabbed the handle and unsheathed it, glad to hold it's weight and power in her hands.   
Cloud hoped to the highest heaven that she knew what the hell she was doing with that thing. Darting away from her, he paced over to the end of the bed and closer to Sephiroth.   
Snap open, six bullets from her leg, load, close, aim. It was like second nature. Her weapon pointed surely for the place at which the psycho would rise from the floor. Almost instantly as her finger rested on the trigger, she saw a small burst of light and Cloud fly backward. That man, Sephiroth, rose so quickly and used such forceful magic that her trigger finger didn't even have the _time_ to squeeze in reflex before she _felt_ a similar burst of light pass through her. It was quite like whatever had caused her muscles to jam and her conception of time to change earlier, only with an electric shiver of painful pins and needles through every bit of her body. It was so intense that her gunblade slipped from her hand; but she was utterly determined to keep it in her grasp. The burst of pain only lasted for a second, and she was able to regain her grasp with both hands on the end of the hilt.   
Unfortunately, it was not in time to actually take a shot at the bastard. "Sit, child." He ordered, spreading his hand out toward her. An invisible, icy chill spilled throughout her directly from that hand. She completely lost control of her body only long enough for her legs to give out underneath her, folding her perfectly into the chair directly behind her. She found that this time, with agonizing dismay, her hands were completely immobile. She couldn't even unwrap them from around her gunblade, which was pinned toward the floor as if stuck on a powerful magnet. Shit. She was useless.   
"And as for _you_..." he continued, paralyzing Cloud just an instant before he'd have used that giant sword to slice the man in half from top to bottom, "_You_ are even _more_ of a nuisance to me."   
The blonde growled, trying his damnedest to get that sword just an inch closer. "I thought I killed you!" he yelled in complete frustration.   
The man scoffed calmly. "Looks can be deceiving. I certainly wasn't expecting to see you again." He crossed his arms and rested his chin on the backs of his fingers, talking as though he were trying to communicate to a slow child. "You should know that I am forever tied to this planet. As long as it exists, so do I. So does Mother."   
Kyrie sat back, watching this whole exchange (as if she had a choice in the matter). Cloud was as old as Sephiroth? Interesting. They'd battled before, as well. It was like watching a soap opera just a little too close to real life.   
"Don't give me that _mother_ shit." Cloud growled.   
Sephiroth only grinned, almost shyly, acting flattered. "Still quick to anger. So long and still so much the same."   
The shop keeper grunted as the sword moved just slightly, barely forward. But it was a sign that the magic was far from permanent, or as powerful as it could be. There was hope. "The same goes for you, you fucking..."   
"I am not an unfair man." Sephiroth chuckled to himself, interrupting. "I'll give you as fair a chance as you gave me, you pathetic reject." A ball of black energy erupted outward from his body. The next thing Kyrie knew was that way too goddamn familiar blackness, surrounding all senses. Complete and utter blackness.   
  


She groaned quietly, becoming completely aware of what had just transpired. It was a slow process, like having been drugged. Familiar in all the worst ways. And when her eyes finally opened and adjusted the barest hint of a lightening sky, there was another moan. Aggravation, defeat, regret. It sucked to have been taken so easily. And with no real defense against magic--it just sucked.   
She looked over to see Cloud, still asleep and collapsed at the foot of the bed. There was absolutely no sign that that crazy jerk had even been there; even the fucking bed was made as neat as any hotel maid could have dreamed. Well then. What to think of this situation. It was certainly new and different.   
She rose quietly, sheathing her weapon that had fallen to the floor. No damage done, but it was still loaded. She thought she'd certainly better put the safety on. Better at this point to keep it loaded and at the ready. Just in case. Sephiroth may not be around, but if he had magic, he may be able to control... things. Hell, she didn't know. All she knew were stories from her parents, pictures, history lessons. Sure monsters still existed, but not quite the way they used to. They were pretty much completely restricted to the uninhabited islands and forests, these days.   
And as for Cloud... well, she didn't feel threatened by him. In fact, she truly believed he'd helped her out of the goodness of his own heart. She felt she'd soon find out how much of an idiot she was; he'd taken a deep breath and turned slightly. What an ordeal. Part of her wanted to lay on that bed and sleep for a long time, then take a nice, strong, caffeinated drink and ponder what had just happened. But there wasn't really time for that.   
She walked over to the window, careful not to hurry Cloud's waking up. She wanted to see what sort of situation they were involved in, first. The most unfortunate sight met her eyes, however. Even through the darkness of pre-dawn, she could see bodies strewn about the cobblestones below. Several. One had on a maid's uniform, and one looked like a doorman. That's all she cared to see; they were in trouble. Possibly the only ones left alive in the building. Shit, the whole town for all they knew. It was pretty certain that Sephiroth was long gone.   
She sighed with a bit of disgust, trying to fully wake herself up. The welt on her back was unbearably stiff and still stinging, joining the orchestra of bruises. Most especially when she tried to stretch her arms over her head. She mumbled a strong string of curses to herself and walked up to the mirror on the far side of the room, turning away from it and looking behind her. Her back didn't look _that_ bad, she supposed, but it sure as hell didn't look great. She looked like she'd been in one hell of an interesting accident, at least. There were also a few small black and blue marks on her face from when the freak had backhanded her, but it wasn't too much. She just looked fully like a domestic dispute victim.   
"You got pretty banged up, there..." Cloud commented groggily.   
She gave him an understated, agreeable glance, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "I take it you're not just a mild-mannered shop keeper."   
He stood slowly, his head still spinning a little. "Yeah." He agreed, sounding almost defeated. "You could say that." 


	8. Chapter 8

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. It's innuendo city in this chapter, though. Spooky.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 8   
by Orin Drake 

They wandered from room to room of the second floor separately, starting off from either end and meeting in the middle. While they were both quite convinced that Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen, they both held their weapons closely. One can never be too careful with an unpredictable psychopath on the loose.   
Lucky for vacationers, there apparently hadn't been many people staying at this particular inn. Kyrie only discovered one body, decapitated, laying across a writing desk with blood and ink splattered across a half finished novella. All the same, it was disturbing. He'd obviously not seen it coming, and from the look on his face (she accidentally discovered on the way out), hadn't felt a thing.   
How very odd, she found that. She'd pictured Sephiroth as a _major_ sadist for _obvious_ reasons. The idea that he'd just go around hacking people to bits in a very straight-forward manner was... odd. Not that there was anything sane about the man, but... something wasn't quite right about that. In a number of ways.   
Setting that thought aside for the time being, she continued to search the rooms--drawers, closets, even under matresses--for anything useful. Mostly a cell phone. Hell, a _phone_ would be nice. None of the rooms had it. Which possibly meant the front desk didn't either.   
Meeting in the middle of the hallway, she found an equally confused Cloud Strife. "Two bodies. Both decapitated."   
She nodded. "Only one. He was writing a book when it happened."   
"Seph was never one for the arts." Cloud tried to lighten the mood a little... and didn't exactly succeed. "I never knew what the hell he was thinking before... but now, it's just weird."   
_To put it extremely lightly._ She responded in her head. "Better check downstairs for a phone or something."   
Agreeing, he followed her down the stairs. Once again they split up, rummaging through the many staff rooms to see what they could find. Again, there were only a few scattered bodies looking like they were in the middle of doing their daily chores. Even the lady and the front desk still had her hand half poised to take a reservation.   
Kyrie shuddered at that sight. It was a little too eerie. But there was really no time to stay on that line of thought. Carefully, she flopped the body into a chair and started going through all of the drawers. Dammit. Weren't people who ran touristy places (as this appeared to be from the set-up, anyway) supposed to be prepared for emergencies? Certainly they never could have planned a raging psycho chopping off heads, but... it should have been considered.   
Frustrated, she simply pulled all of the drawers completely out and looked for some sort of emergency device. No such luck. Not in the coat closet, either. No one had a cell phone, a beeper, or any other sort of anything useful. She even went into the employee rest room. (Point of interest: no one was dead in there.)   
Walking out, she saw Cloud Strife surveying the mess she'd made before announcing his findings. "No communication devices. At all."   
She sighed, an idea finally passing over her mind. "We must be somewhere around Winhill, then. The area prides itself on being completely 'old fashioned'."   
"Well... bites for us."   
She pulled a small device out of her pocket and held it to the window. Obviously, she got no response. "Solar powered. It'll take a while."   
He looked aghast. "You had that the whole time?"   
"Always do." She grinned without meaning to. "But... it doesn't work well. Actually... it never has worked. Guess it's probably the wrong time to bring that up with my parents, though."   
Cloud tapped his foot for a moment, thinking. "Well, I bet there are more inns around here. And shops. Maybe _someone_ has a phone."   
They strolled casually out the door, into the morning light--apparently having forgotten what laid in front of the doorway. "Hyne..." Kyrie whispered lightly, seeing the true carnage in the slowly breaking dawn. Every slash was fatal, so it appeared. Many of the people were decapitated. But there was a good number (all wearing inn uniforms) were sprawled out on the ground over their own intestines.   
Cloud sighed quietly. Well, it wasn't fire. But it was Sephiroth just the same. He must have had great fun slicing heads off--until someone saw him and screamed. Maybe even tried to get the rest of the employees out to safety. No success, it appeared. Stepping over one of the bodies, he was suddenly overcome with... a feeling. Something deep and ingrained, something he absolutely could not ignore. He'd felt it before, long ago. Hell, he'd felt in the moment he'd set out to unknowingly rescue Kyrie.   
She noticed the look on his face as he paused halfway over the carnage, foot still in the air. "Yes?"   
"There's... there's something here, still." He responded with assurance. "Something under this place. In a cellar, maybe."   
She was silent for a moment, looking into his incredibly blue eyes. "Not to pry, of course. But, how do you know that?"   
"The same way I knew something was going on here. The same way I knew Sephiroth was alive. I have no fucking idea."   
Good point. She didn't bother to stop and question how or why he'd come to rescue her, but she was glad he did. Maybe there was someone else Sephiroth had tied up downstairs. Not a pleasant thought. "Well... I'm coming."   
"Wouldn't you rather stay here and try to find a phone?" Deep down, he knew that was a dumb question. He could well be going into a strange place with very little chance of survival and no one to watch his back. In dealings with Sephiroth, he'd learned you _need_ someone to watch your back. And then there was that look on her face. A stone stare, in a sense. A very subtle "fuck off", if you will, that was not to be taken personally.   
And somehow she, too, knew that all of this information had just passed between them in the time it took to breathe. "We can always come back."   
He grinned nastily at those words without thinking. They seemed incredibly... naive, in a sense. But she certainly didn't look it, that's what was really important. "Did you see a cellar entrance anywhere?"   
"No. Must be out here somewhere." That grin had made her _feel_ a little naive, truth be told. He'd obviously been around for quite a bit longer than she had. Maybe she should just suck it up and let him take the lead. Maybe.   
They patrolled the outside walls of the inn, looking for any sort of entrance, or even an indication that the ground had been disturbed. Twice around, they looked even closer. And the third time, it was just goddamn frustrating. But near the beginning of the fourth, Cloud got a little chill as he passed by an old wagon used as decoration out front. It hadn't been used, or _moved,_ in years. Sure enough, with a great deal of pushing and shoving on their part, they discovered a cracked stone panel beneath the untended grass.   
Kyrie kneeled, looking for some grip with which to pull it up. Cloud tried to give her a hand by prying it up with his sword; it would budge a little, but was ultimately just plain too heavy. But there was a weak spot dead center... Kyrie advised her new friend to step back with a simple look, pulled out her gunblade, and shot twice. On the second shot, the bullet making enticing a loud ring like she'd hit metal, the panel broke into pebbles and fell into a dark hole, skittering at the bottom. Hell, it's not like anyone would want to vacation here for a while, anyway. And there was no one to complain about damaged property.   
By the sound of the stones' fall, it wasn't that far of a leap. Thanks to the rays of morning, however, it was just too hard to know for sure. "I'll go first." Cloud announced.   
"Good." Kyrie grinned.   
"Humph." He tried his best to act offended. In reality, he was... excited. He knew he probably shouldn't have been, as this was more than likely going to be a hell of a lot more trouble than it was worth, but... he couldn't help it. The thrill of adventure was eating its way from the inside out. Not that he wanted it to be another goddamn quest to find Sephiroth.   
Sitting at the edge of the hole in the earth, he kicked his legs a little--just wide enough for himself and his sword. Slowly, he lowered himself, still trying to feel for a bottom. With a deep breath, he finally let go of the hold he had on the remaining stone and fell--instantly slamming against a solid floor.   
_Whew._ "Just drop, you'll be fine."   
No answer. Utter, complete silence. His heart started to race. "Kyrie?"   
Again there was nothing. Not even a breeze blowing. Not even a bird cawing, for that matter. He called again, louder, "Kyrie?!"   
A pair of legs suddenly dangled from the top. Breath caught in his throat until he saw the rings of the frye boots. As she landed gracefully, she presented him with a lit lamp.   
_Good idea!_ he didn't dare to admit out loud. He'd completely forgotten about actually needing light. "Where--?"   
"Among the bodies." She answered dryly. "Matches right beside it." An unbroken oil lamp with matches right beside it among the scattered carnage was just the slightest bit... not quite right. But then, who was she to question? This whole fucking day had been far from normal.   
Cloud nodded as if her thoughts had been spoken. "Weird. But good. I hope." He took the lamp from her and turned the wick up just a touch, igniting the tiny chamber they were in. It was a circular room, walled off with messy masonry at one end as though there had been another room there once, and opened into a dark, descending staircase at the other.   
An interesting thought ticked his mind; could this be where Shin-Ra Mansion was all those years ago? Certainly the tunnels couldn't have survived that long. But they could have been discovered and re-used. What an interesting thought. He wondered if Sephiroth had a hand in this one, as well. "I guess we go down."   
She shivered just slightly, despite consciously trying not to. She had never been claustrophobic before. But then, she'd never been presented with a strange, dark, possibly very old underground tunnel, before. She suddenly wished she'd asked her parents more about their training days. And what they did to prevent panic attacks. There's was something very stale about the air in here...   
But Cloud was already slowly making his way down. Step by step, making sure nothing would crumble underneath him. If this actually _were_ the same Shin-Ra tunnel, it sure as hell had been through a lot; chips, chunks, sand and water damage. With a sudden turn in the stairs, he became increasingly sure it was a different place altogether. Unless, that is, someone had added another portion to conceal something else. That thought alone was not a pleasant one.   
Just as they felt like they were winding into the very core of the earth itself, the stairway finally stopped at another little room-chamber. It was large than the first one had been, though felt no less frightening. More so, even, because of how deep they'd gone.   
Cloud was just on the verge of cursing a blue streak when he noticed the wall on the far side was _not_ actually bricked up. It looked, instead, like a door. Walking closer and shining the light right on it, it was clearly separate from the wall. Stepping back and scanning the room, he looked for the trigger.   
"Is this what you're looking for?" Kyrie asked very quietly, kneeling next to the wall to the right of the door. Regardless of her attempt at speaking softly, the stone corridor made her voice boom. _Hey, cool._   
Nodding, he brought the lamp over to her find. It was nothing more than a little rectangle cut out of the wall itself, no doubt deeply housing a switch system. It looked like one of the simpler devices, built more to prevent something from getting out than to prevent another from going in. Not a nice thought to have at this point, so close to the door. "Stick your hand in and press the switch at the back."   
Kyrie simply turned around and glared at him.   
He grinned in response and shrugged. "My hand's too big."   
She made some sort of disgusted sound in her throat and bent in a little closer to peer into the hole. Nothing. It was pitch black regardless of the lamp. She had a pretty understandable aversion to sticking her hand inside. But then, Cloud _had_ saved her life. He'd watched her grow up in a sense, even. He gave her the freaking belt she was wearing. She might as well humor him and help if she could. Taking a deep breath, she slowly pushed her fingers into the darkness. "Fuck."   
The smirk disappeared from Cloud's face as he kneeled next to her. "What's wrong?"   
"Booby trapped..." she murmured, feeling blood spill from the backs of her knuckles. She didn't bother trying to wiggle her fingers to see further damage. It felt like there were tiny blades everywhere. From the lack of _gushing_ blood, she could only assume at the moment that all of her fingers were more or less in tact. It wasn't _so_ painful, as the blades were razor sharp; but it was no picnic, either.   
Seeing as how she was cut anyway, she just continued to press her hand further and further until at last something gave under her fingers. There was a loud click both from inside the hole and from the sealed doorway next to them, and she wasn't about to just leave her hand there. Facing yet more cuts, she simply yanked her hand back. Lucky thing, too; just a second after her fingers cleared the hole, the blades shot to twice their length, acting like the jaws of a shark. Had her hand still been inside, it'd have been useless.   
Cloud couldn't entirely suppress a nagging guilt as he lightly scooped her bloody hand into his own to inspect it. It wasn't too bad, really. But there were several cuts in her fingers both on top and underneath, all bleeding steadily.   
_Now_ the wounds chose to burn. She clicked her teeth together and prevented herself from murmuring curses. Her hand was on blood red fire, dripping every so often as if to tease her. Lovely. No ability at healing magic. Absolutely no medicine. Just her luck, as usual. And where would she bleed from next, she wondered. If she survived this one, anyway.   
He seemed to be concentrating rather hard. Or maybe he had a really terrible headache. Whatever it was, it was already causing a sheen of sweat over his face. It had been a very long time since he'd used any Materia, but his Regen abilities had perhaps suffered most of all. He could naturally heal from pretty much anything, so there was never really a need to use it for himself. With so long without use, the Restore materia was probably almost useless. He dug deep, deeper than he ever remembered doing, trying to find it. Trying to tune his mind to it like an instrument. He _was_ starting to get a splitting headache by the time he finally felt a tingle of magic still left there, forgotten in an old dusty corner.   
Where her hand burned, it suddenly froze. Not in a bad or painful way, but something she certainly never experienced before. A _very_ odd feeling of actually being able to feel each individual cut closing overcame both heat and cold sensations, and before her eyes, the slices in her hand melted into healthy flesh.   
"There we go." Cloud grunted, releasing her in favor of trying to massage the pain from his temples. He was sure it'd done nothing for her back, but at least her hand was fine again. That was important for her weapon.   
She stared at her hand for a moment, flexing the muscles painlessly. "Neat trick."   
"Didn't think I'd be able to do it again..." he trailed off, shaking his head of a bit of dizziness. There was an empty, almost hungry feeling at the pit of his stomach for just a moment as his natural energy flowed back to normal. Feeling better, he stood and took the lamp with one hand, offering his other to Kyrie.   
Should she press to see what this remarkable talent had been, she wondered. But it probably wasn't the time. The door was open, and there was undoubtedly something on the other side. An excited, frightened curiosity had begun to take control, and she lifted herself up with Cloud's help. This was probably not going to be pretty.   
Actually, it was quite fucking dull. The room on the other side was full of nothing but dull gray. Just the most bland, horrific color of gray Kyrie had ever seen in her life. The walls, the ceiling, the flo--   
And there it was. Bringing the lamp forward, it was perfectly clear; the only furnishing the room contained at all was an old wooden coffin. Cloud's heart pounded. This was a little too familiar for his liking. Then, it was also sort of welcome. If there was any chance at all, any chance of meeting again...   
Kyrie followed behind him closely, her eyes never leaving that peculiar interior design touch. Close enough to touch it, she bent down and read the aged brass panel near the head of the coffin. She murmured to herself, but loud enough for Cloud to hear, "Good riddance." _Oh, that's what I want on mine, too..._   
He swallowed. There was a good deal of him that would be completely, perfectly okay with just setting the lamp down and dashing back to the surface. Or even just backing out, back up the steps, right back up the hole, and going home. Leave Sephiroth and his crazy fucking ideas to himself, and just go home, run the shop, happily ever after.   
But, that coffin... There were possibilities in there. Of an old friendship somehow lost over the years (it was so hard to remember after all this time). Of someone who could be trapped there, begging to get out but not being heard. Or, of course, it could just be one hell of a rich fuck's sick idea of the end to a long treasure hunt. There were all kinds of possibilities.   
Only one solution, however. He put the lamp, full wick, on the ground and braced himself. Kyrie's eyes went just slightly wider in realization of what he was going to do. He obviously knew something she didn't. And she wasn't sure she quite _wanted_ to know, period. As he grasped the lid, she took several wide paces backward.   
Heaving the top over the side, he felt instantly that he was about to relieve himself. It was perfectly unmistakable. The shine of gold metal over to the right hand side caught his eye first, amongst a field of red fabric. Crow black hair framed a porcelain face that was both dead and lively at once. Just as he feared perhaps this was a far cry from the last time such an event happened, the eyes flashed open.   
Kyrie felt her heart stop. How she was stable upon her legs, she had no idea. She was actually pretty sure that she'd be collapsing in a human puddle in just a moment; but she saw that Cloud's reaction was far different. He, in fact, looked... elated.   
No words spoken, only a puzzled look from the living dead and the look of a child at holiday time being exchanged between the two old friends. And then the corpse merely sat up. Possibly the strangest thing Kyrie had ever seen. At this point in time, that was quite a statement.   
The pale man closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the hand that was flesh and blood. Upon deciding the headache would probably be staying with him a while, he opened his eyes to Cloud's outstretched hand. Appearing to think it over, he finally grasped it and let himself be pulled up and out of the box.   
Kyrie remained slack jawed and staring. Had she been told she'd bear witness to this event just a day ago, she'd have thought it ludicrous at best. She never thought she'd see something that so... astounded her. It was just... so... weird.   
A thick, tired voice from the living corpse, finally broke the silence. "I'm a little sick of being locked inside a coffin."   
Cloud burst into laughter. A comfortable laughter that immediately shattered Kyrie's unease.   
There was a pause and a puzzled look from the man. "That just isn't funny, Cloud."   
Kyrie stayed back from the two, just watching the them. It was more than obvious that they had a history together, and their interaction was a friendly one. Somehow she never sickened of that, of seeing old friends meet again. Maybe it was the lesson of making sure to live the fullest out of that moment in time, since there is no return. She learned all too well through her parents.   
Only then did the pale waif seem to notice her. When their eyes met, they locked on for dear life. His eyes were as red and as bloody deep as hers were. Glorious, deepest red. Absolutely perfect against skin even more white than Sephiroth's and raven hair, were those piercing red eyes.   
He broke eye contact first, staring right at her belt. As though it held all the value in the world, he whispered, "That's mine."   
Kyrie looked down at the belt, then to Cloud. With two pairs of red eyes on him, he found it a little hard to keep laughing. "It's in good hands, Vincent." He caught his breath quickly.   
Kyrie wasn't sure she wanted to be responsible, though. She quickly unbuckled and slipped it off, folding it gently in half and holding it out to the man Cloud had called Vincent. "This obviously doesn't belong to me."   
Vincent looked puzzled for a moment, just staring down at the belt. Then he gazed back at her eyes, like mirrors, and nodded slightly. It was a greeting gesture rather than acceptance of her offer. He didn't reach for it, only stared at it for several seconds, then away into darkness. "How long has it been?" he whispered.   
"About a thousand years, give or take a decade." Cloud sighed.   
Kyrie's eyes flashed. 1000 years. Immortals? She looked at the ground a moment, collecting her thoughts. Not even the world history she knew of went back that far. What hadn't been destroyed in the first Sorceress War was destroyed in the second. She smacked the belt against her open hand several times, just thinking. Suddenly the belt stopped moving, and her eyes pierced both of them at once. "Mind filling me in?"   
Cloud nodded slowly, still a little overcome. It was great to see an old friend, an old fighting companion, but he wished the circumstances were different. "Kyrie, this is Vincent Valentine. Vincent, this is Kyrie Leonhart."   
She wasn't sure if she should put out a hand or not. The man was standing very stiffly, his hands to his sides, and yet maintained a delicate appearance. It was the polite thing to do, however. She switched the belt to her left hand, stepped forward, and held her right hand out. "Uh... hello, Vincent."   
Garnet eyes locked for less than a second as he turned his attention to her hand. He stared at it as though contemplating what sort of poison she was laced with, then finally grasped it lightly. But there was no shaking. "Kyrie."   
There was a mild accent there, but she couldn't place it. She was sure she'd never heard anything like it. Nor had she ever felt a hand like that before. It didn't quite feel like skin, even. It felt like... cold silk, maybe. Quite the interesting experience, anyway. Not one to miss opportunities, she swiftly replaced her hand with the belt. "You really ought to be keeping this."   
Vincent looked down to see that he still had his other belt in place. He remembered how Cloud had won the very one in his hand during a card game, and felt it quite odd that he should ever see it again. Especially after all this time. "No." He stated softly, placing it back into her palm. "I only need one." Perhaps it was no wonder Cloud had given his belt to her, so it appeared. Their eyes were quite alike, indeed.   
She was clearly uncertain of the appropriate thing to do in such an instance. He seemed genuine enough, of course. So, she shrugged and placed the belt back around her waist. This was getting weirder and weirder. 


	9. Chapter 9

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. It's innuendo city in this chapter, though. Spooky.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 9   
by Orin Drake 

"How'd you get back into this position?" Cloud finally asked.   
Vincent paused from inspecting the mechanical workings of the claw. "I can't remember."   
Kyrie and Cloud exchanged a glance. It was a little... unbelievable, that explanation. Cloud pressed, "You can't remember?"   
The pale man flexed his metal fingers, noting everything was in order. "No, I can't remember." He paused, holding back a shiver. "I can't remember anything... after the Lifestream..."   
The blonde's eyes widened. "Seriously?" Vincent's dull glare answered, so he continued. "Well, I remember that I was... I... Hmm." The fact that he couldn't remember what had happened 1000 years ago wasn't really so surprising, he assumed. But it still bothered him. Wouldn't he have remembered where Vincent had gone off too? And Tifa, for that matter?   
Vincent shrugged. He had another question in mind. "How did you two come to meet?"   
"Her grandfather is my best custom..." Cloud answered before he realized it. He immediately placed a hand over his mouth and tried to pretend he wasn't looking to Kyrie for a reaction.   
Interestingly enough, she smiled rather suggestively at him. As if she didn't know the sordid affairs of her own family.   
Such a reaction from the two of them caused Vincent to become even more curious. "Customer? You have a business, Cloud?"   
What a circumstance he'd gotten himself into. Cloud removed his hand from his mouth and started pretending to adjust his battle gear. "Just a clothing shop."   
"A clothing shop would not entitle your spontaneous silence." Vincent quipped.   
It was too delicious for Kyrie to stay out of. Especially considering Cloud had her cut up her fingers upon the insistence his hands were too big. She held back a comment about his very feminine hands then, but she could hold no more. As innocently as she could manage, she inquired, "It's a _women's_ clothing shop, isn't it, Cloud?"   
As the blonde's composure faded and he cast her an unwelcoming look, Vincent got the picture. He _wanted_ to laugh. It came out as a nearly silent cough of a chuckle, but the intent of the sound was clear. "That only explains so much..."   
Cloud took a deep breath, uncertain if he could utter the name at all. "Sephiroth."   
Vincent's eyes sharpened, and his chest felt tight. That name. That fucking name. It hurt just to hear it, and old rage flared in his blood. "I see." He took another long gaze at Kyrie, trying not to appear to be staring quite so intensely at her.   
But she _did_ see. She couldn't miss those eyes. "He... 'abducted' me."   
Curiosity and... well, growing rage ignited subtly in his eyes. Any number of things could happen when Sephiroth got hold of something he desired. Rarely were any of these things good. He didn't know her, didn't have the time to feel her out, but she did... feel, as far as he could tell, "alright". Cloud seemed fond enough of her, and not even in _that way_.   
"Nothing really happened." She felt the odd need to reassure him.   
"Is _that_ what you'd call those bruises?" Cloud scoffed quietly, begging to differ.   
She shot him a delicate, friendly "shut the hell up" look. "Better than it could have been."   
Vincent swallowed, waiting for a further explanation. When he got none, he assumed Kyrie had been right. If she wasn't ripped wide open, chances were that it wasn't that serious--yet. First thing was first. "We must get out of here. Then we will decide what comes next."   
"Good idea." The blonde agreed.   
And, of course, it was then that fate--or destiny, or whatever other fucked up idea of the workings of the universe--had decided to step in and take control. There was a click. A very loud click. The three of them all seemed to have the same idea at the same time; the latch for the door. Had it been on a timer, perhaps? An instant later, before any of them had the time to so much as react with more than a breath, the door--their only way out--slammed shut in an earth-shaking, heart-wrenching thunk.   
Silence. Utter, bitter silence. None of them could believe what had just transpired, not at first. It was... nightmarish. It was insane. Trapped deep in the earth. In a little room. Luckily the flame had managed to hold onto the lamp and continue to burn, but... they began to wonder how long it would take for the oxygen to be used up. Maybe Vincent didn't need a "normal" amount, but two humans plus a flame...   
"Oh, we can always go back, right?" Cloud joked just a little bit recklessly.   
That's when he experienced the patented Kyrie Glare; one that by far rivaled both of her parents. She had this _look_ that could freeze you, kill you; stop you in your godforsaken tracks. Her eyes were just eyes one moment, then bullets the next. He had seen something similar in Vincent in days long since passed, but assumed it was never quite as strong since there was no feminine--alright, _less_ feminine--"energy" behind Vincent's gory looks.   
Cloud glanced away from the red daggers aimed his direction and took just a second to see what Vincent was doing. He blinked. Several times. Vincent was almost smiling at those wicked eyes, while he was feeling very much uncomfortable in their path. _Smiling._ That... bastard. If he didn't know any better, Cloud would swear she was _Vincent's_ child.   
Left with no other options, the three of them began searching for the counter switch on the inside. If there was such a thing. It was clear, deep in their minds, that Vincent had been placed in this room to _remain in the room_. Each pressed brick and darker shadow that did not give under their pressing/pounding/punching carved away at the delicate faith in ever seeing sunlight again.   
When two of the four walls were completely cleared of harboring any passages or switches, that little bit of faith they held fell quite a bit lower. It was a narrow line to walk; on one side, they knew they ought to hurry so they could get the hell out before they had nothing left to breathe (even Vincent could only survive so long). On the other hand, if they were to hurry too much they may have to take another full sweep of the room, so it may be best to take their time the first time around. Either way, the oxygen issue was clear. Not to mention the sheer terror that would slowly creep into them if they didn't keep their mind off of the possibilities.   
Four walls. From top to bottom. And nothing. As Cloud began to take another forcefully calm look at the first wall, Kyrie paused and stared at the coffin. Could it... could they have missed..? She walked over to it's edge and crouched down, staring.   
Cloud noticed her curiosity then, deciding to take the lamp over to her. It was an idea, alright. The best one they had at the moment.   
With the light clearly shining right into the space between the floor and the coffin... "Bingo." She announced with certainly. The coffin was raised a bit further than it should have been if it were sitting on a flat floor. Not much, granted, but certainly enough to be suspicious. _Something_ was under it, though as to whether it was going to help them or not...   
But it was certainly worth trying. Especially now; there was just a touch of lightheaded dizziness going around. With Vincent's help, they slid the coffin off to a corner quite easily; revealing a small embedded stone switch underneath. Very slowly, without any added weight on top of it, it began to raise up with a grinding sound underneath.   
Then everything _jerked_; as if the entire room was being shaken. Weirder still, after the initial jerk there was the distinct feeling of rotation, of turning, and stone grinding against stone rattled off the walls. At first they had wondered if they were just having some sort of psychotic episode, but it became agonizingly clear that the whole room was moving. Sure as hell didn't help the dizziness factor, though.   
As the resonating grinding reached a volume so high they were forced to place their hands over their ears, the stone floor itself vibrating, there was another loud, crashing click. All motion stopped, the sound taking a moment to silence, a few more seconds to die out completely. The door that had previously been impossible to open lifted slowly, exposing another long, dark hallway.   
Kyrie took a deep breath--and was almost instantly sorry. The air in this opening reminded her of a tomb. It was far from fresh, to put it lightly. Like no one had been here in hundreds of years... the thought sent a shiver down her spine. Now where the hell were headed? Granted, though, they certainly couldn't stay where they were. She glanced at Cloud, mentally shoving him ahead.   
He wasn't exceptionally grateful for that look. But he had similar ideas. It seemed far better to explore the obvious option presented in front of them than stay and see what happens. Besides, even though the hallway was low and narrow, it felt a little less claustrophobic than the room. Vincent was quick to follow, just wanting to go somewhere, anywhere, and preferably far away.   
It turned out that the hallway only went so far before turning sharply left, slamming right into a very steep stairway. Up. Up was good. Up was where they wanted to go. Maybe this was an alternative way out. Yes, yes, that was a nice thought. One to hold on to for dear fucking life.   
Taking the first step, Cloud felt his foot _sink_ just a little. Not even time to swallow nervously; the door to the room they'd just exited slammed shut once again. But this time... this time their luck had appeared to run out. The flame from the lamp held for only a second, then disappeared completely.   
"Oh mother fu--" Cloud started.   
"-Cker." Kyrie finished gently.   
Vincent swallowed, trying to get his eyes to adjust. He _knew_ he used to be able to see basic shapes in the pitch darkness. But it'd been a long time, obviously. He hoped he hadn't lost the essential ability. It would _really_ come in quite handy right now... Blinking, focussing, concentrating on that endless field of blackness...   
"Vincent?" Cloud asked, not having heard anything from him.   
"Hold on." He responded, getting a little response from his pupils. He could just barely make out the two forms next to him. "I think I can lead us out."   
Kyrie was damn glad to hear that. As much as she enjoyed the dark... she didn't enjoy it _this_ dark, let alone this far under the surface of the earth that she also so enjoyed. This was... not right. She'd have laughed at those that had the fear of being buried alive before. Not anymore.   
Vincent took a breath and carefully climbed behind Cloud, testing a few stairs on the way. "Can either of you see anything?"   
"Not a thing." Kyrie responded distantly. It was very eerie. No sight at all, not even movement. But her sense of hearing already appeared to be magnifying; or perhaps that was just the very mild terror adrenaline and the stone walls. Either way, she could hear Vincent's steps clearly, and even the gentle swoosh-rattle of his clothing.   
"Me either." Cloud added, trying not to get nervous. He'd been in far worse situations than this, he reminded himself. There was no reason to worry. Of course, Vincent wasn't armed... but he and Kyrie were. They'd be alright. Hopefully.   
"Can you follow?" the pale man inquired, his eyes finally picking up more than mere shapes. It was sort of like seeing in dim shades of black and white, but it was far better than nothing.   
"Yeah." The blonde tried to answer with certainly.   
Vincent looked back at Kyrie, seeing her close her eyes and take a deep, steadying breath. She wasn't usually afraid of the dark or claustrophobic; but of course the events of the past few minutes had made her rethink her fears, really. Well, _fear_ it was not. It was more of a very confused, nervous, ready energy. In the end, she had to put full trust into Cloud and his old friend. That was weird. Her instincts weren't blatantly telling her it was a bad idea, however (they were being very passive, if anything). She merely wasn't used to handing her life over to _anyone_.   
"Hold to the right wall." Vincent ordered simply, advancing slowly. He'd have to make certain all of these steps held before the others got to them. A fall in the dark would not be good, obviously.   
Cold, dark, quiet save echoing footsteps. An odd experience. One Kyrie had never wondered about. For some reason, she'd simply chosen to bring up the rear. Every once in a while she'd ghost Cloud's hand with her fingertips as it lingered to make sure she was still safe behind him, but it seemed there was some... mutual trust at work, here. Again, it wasn't unwelcome; just very strange.   
No real conversation. Just climbing, turning, dipping, climbing. With every sharp change of direction Vincent would tell them where to reach or to take very slow steps, but that was about it. The two blind wanderers in the dark could do little more than keep going. Frustrating.   
While it had initially been astoundingly eerie, after however the hell long they'd been climbing (her legs had begun to ache frequently, so it had to have been at least an hour's worth of ups, downs and turns) it had begun to feel a little more... steady. Still far from "natural", but not so bad. Step after step, then a long flat surface, then usually a few more steps before an odd turn or two. The tunnels were beginning to feel like a maze. Or a very wide circle. Not a pleasant thought to have for a blind wanderer.   
But Vincent had been blessed with natural directional skills (toned fully thanks to his stay with the Turks). He knew they were headed in an almost spiral direction, but it was upward. They were aimed for the surface, alright, but most likely in a mountainous area. How he knew this he wasn't entirely sure, but it just... felt like it. Otherwise, his logic insisted, they'd have already reached the surface by now.   
Long after her legs had ceased to feel anything like they were attached to her body, Vincent stopped them to take a momentary rest. In truth, all three of them were a little out of sorts here. Cloud hadn't walked this far in hundreds of years. Vincent had been laying in a coffin for a thousand years, for Hyne's sake. And Kyrie... well, she could kick like a mule but walking up and down stairs in slightly heeled boots was getting way too hard. It was a short rest, but a very useful one. Without a word, they picked up again and began to climb. Several twists, turns and popping joints later, their journey began to pay off.   
_Finally_, a pinprick of light in the distance burned their eyes, just around the corner. Right up ahead, not too terribly far. Vincent's eyes had already began to make out color and detail as they marched onward, insistent upon seeing natural light once more before they passed out. Just a mile or so up ahead in a very easily sloping path, crumbling from obvious years of water damage and temperature change.   
Even with the time they had to adjust to the light, when they were just a few yards from the low mouth of the cave they all had to shade their eyes. Bright, light, sunshine, fresh air... it was very close to strange considering where they'd just been spending so much of their time.   
Squatting just enough to make it out into the world without bumping her head, Kyrie darted out of the tunnel with the rest of her strength and plopped down, dead on her ass, on a flat rock outside. Before anything else, before she even bothered to look at where she was in relation to the world, she took a deep, almost painful breath of fresh, lively air. Then and only then did she survey her surroundings.   
Vincent's thoughts had been accurate; they were situated on a cliff not too terribly far away from the inn where all of this shit began (Kyrie could just make it out down there). It was definitely starting to look like the Winhill area, given the landscape. Sure they weren't in one of the highest points of the surrounding area, but she could see enough. Getting her bearings would take a little longer, though.   
"Well?" Cloud prodded.   
"Southern Galbadia." She confirmed. "But I'm not quite sure about... anything else. I haven't been here since I was nine or so."   
Vincent nodded distantly, taking a seat a few feet away. A moment's rest wasn't such a bad idea. Cloud had already decided to stretch out flat on his back.   
The bright sunlight and need of more information drove Kyrie to pull the solar powered computer from her pocket. Facing it directly toward the sunlight--nothing happened. Just for the hell of it, she faced it away from the sunlight. Still nothing, of course. She shook the little device back and forth before rubbing it against the side of her jeans. Again she pointed the reflective surface in all directions, sending rays of sunlight every which way. "Solar powered..." she murmured. "Can't get more sun than this... piece of crap..."   
Vincent silently commented to himself, watching her out of the corner of his eye, that technology hadn't really changed all that much. The smaller, faster and more efficient something became, the more problems it would give you. The Turks used to have a funny little rhyming name for things like that, but he couldn't remember it. Nor did he entirely wish to.   
Kyrie pulled her arm back, ready to throw the goddamned thing off of the cliff--but paused. Sure it had never worked since the day it was given to her. But it was a memorial sort of thing. Of what, she didn't really know. Maybe of the fact she may be able to seek government protection. That is, if the computer actually worked and could prove she was who she said she was. Who knows, maybe one day she could actually get it to work. With a soft, slightly annoyed sigh, she put the piece of crap back in her pocket.   
Movement. Just out of the corner of her eye. Not too far off in the distance, sort of coming their direction. Upon closer inspection of what appeared at first to have been a creature with a hunched back, she knew exactly what it was. And it was worse. It was a drifter. She hated dealing with drifters. They were all thieves, all of them. That's how they made their living, in fact. They stole what they could (stores, camp sites, occasionally mugging), and charged an arm and a leg out of people who needed said things.   
Cloud, who had just a moment ago been gazing up at the sky, caught Kyrie's change of direction. He sat up and stared the same direction, catching sight of the same thing.   
"Drifter." She responded without being asked. "Packed real high."   
Vincent joined their gaze. While he remembered similar people from "way back when", maybe this wasn't so bad. "Do you think he'd have a rifle?"   
"I bet he has twenty." Kyrie commented. "And I bet they're all pricey."   
Cloud checked his pockets quickly, then sighed. "I didn't bring anything."   
The pale man shook his head lightly, in a similar situation. He hadn't had need for money in so long he hardly remembered what it looked like. Though, to be fair, it wouldn't matter now anyway. The money would have obviously changed a bit after this long a time.   
Kyrie tried not to look too disappointed as she dug into her other pocket, already aware it would be empty. She didn't carry cash, but cash was all a drifter took. Hell, she didn't even have--but she felt the cold metal of Gil at her fingers. Swallowing, she pulled out a handful. 3,000 Gil rested in the palm of her hand. None of it hers. _Sephiroth..?_   
Vincent tilted his head slightly at her expression. Perhaps he should inquire. By her reaction alone, he'd more or less gotten the situation. Sephiroth was not a giving man by any stretch of the imagination. But the fact remained that the money was there, and it was what they needed. They'd use it.   
Wordlessly, the three of them began a quick walk to intercept the drifter on his path. Sure enough as they got closer, they saw the bundle of crap strapped on his back included, among a million other things, a quality rifle (and a few very cheap, almost useless guns). Older looking, indeed, but somewhere between classic and modern. Not so expensive in any shop, but an arm and a leg from these people. Kyrie swallowed back a mumble just watching him come through the brush and up to them with an expectant look on his dirty face.   
_Here goes nothing._ "Buy your rifle off of you, sir?" she attempted a most charming smile.   
The man stared at her, a little surprised that she'd asked. She was a little thing, after all, and didn't really appear to be the type. But when he saw that gunblade and the two men at her side, that seemed to convince him. "No less than 1,000 Gil."   
Normally, Kyrie was one hell of a haggler (especially when the prices were this ridiculous). She'd battle it out to bring the price down, if only for some sick sense of self assurance. But now, there was no time. Besides, it wasn't hers in the first place. She produced the money from her pocket. "Fifty more if you tell me where the nearest transportation is."   
The man nodded, scooped the money into the pouch on his hip and handed over the rifle (which was promptly taken by the freakish guy with a claw, making him cringe back ever so slightly). "Two hundred more Gil and you get the bullets _and_ a tip toward the nearest transportation."   
Kyrie couldn't afford to walk away. Suppressing a disgusted face or gesture (though the growl low in her throat made its way out), she merely handed him the money and accepted his bullets.   
The man grinned triumphantly and pointed eastward. "That's where the train would be, if it were running."   
"What?" Kyrie hissed.   
The man (or treacherous thief) just nodded, patting his very full pouch. "Been an emergency, or so I hear. All transportation has been diverted to Trabia and Esthar."   
A cold shiver ran through her. "Why's that?"   
"President Loire's son turned up missing." He answered nonchalantly, already starting down the road with his loot and a slightly lighter bundle of junk. "And his granddaughter. Oh, and that Almasy fag, too."   
Kyrie made an obvious stride to follow the thief and "continue their conversation", but a surprisingly heavy metal claw fell on her shoulder and pulled her back. If anyone could smell a bloody fight coming, it was Vincent. They only watched the man travel away from them without a backward glance, no doubt to rip off more passers by.   
"Shit." Kyrie breathed. She was so sure all they'd have to do was get to a train station, then everything would be okay. Her parents would be worried, but it would all turn out alright. Then they'd catch that bastard Sephiroth and... well, do something with him. But now, her parents were _missing_. Just completely fucking _missing_. Then there was Rodger. Poor Rodger. She really, really missed Rodger.   
"Wow... Kyrie..." Cloud started, but didn't really know what to say.   
The hand lightly lifted from her. "Am I to assume you know these people?" Vincent felt the obvious tension riding the air.   
"They're my parents." She stated, uncertain of exactly what she should be feeling. "And I'm the president's granddaughter."   
"You think they'd tag you for emergencies like this." Cloud tried desperately to break the tension.   
Kyrie was silent for a moment, seeing the drifter disappear from vision. They were all around, those people. They could probably afford to live like kings if they'd just unload their shit into a house once in a while. "Well, the computer is _supposed_ to be solar powered and attached to a world-wide network..." She cleared her throat and completely contained all emotion. Now was not the time. "At least we've got another weapon. We'll probably need it. This is still a wild area if drifters offer weapons."   
Vincent began to wriggle bits of the rifle back and forth to make sure his new tool was in complete working order. "Where is there to go now?"   
Kyrie handed the box of bullets over, still having plenty for herself. "There's a big ship yard on the southwestern coast." She answered, looking for a way down a small slope in the proper direction without breaking all of their legs. "It's by an old military base. And I happen to know there's at least one fully manned and armed ship there at all times, even during emergencies."   
"Great!" Cloud chimed in. "How far?"   
"I don't know exactly where we are." Kyrie admitted, taking the computer device out of her pocket one final time to try and catch some light with the panel. "But if the lack of ocean smell is any indication, we could be pretty far." No lights, no sounds, and no device, still. It was annoying. A complete computer and communications device that didn't even work was worse than nothing at all.   
"But we can't be that far." She assured. "This is definitely the Winhill area. We should get there sometime tomorrow even if we stop for the night."   
Vincent nodded, satisfied with her response. They would have to rest, obviously. They'd done a bit of climbing, not to mention Cloud and Kyrie having been through a bit in the past few hours. "We'll keep going until nightfall, then."   


After a few moments of rest (and a bunch of Kyrie's murmurings about drifters), they'd begun to make their way toward the southwestern coast. Lucky for them they had packed lightly (hadn't packed at all, really); while the mountain wasn't really all that much of a structure, it had it's steep points. Most of the subtle cliff faces were barren of all but stone, but there were quite a few large patches of forest, making it even more difficult to find footing.   
Once or twice, there was a chilling sound behind them. Kyrie herself recognized it, but distantly. Something large, by the depth of the cry. It started out in a high pitch, then rapidly changed into a thunder-like rumble. Very concerning in the forest, but they felt a bit safer every time they came across a clean patch of rock. Though none of them cared to admit it to themselves, chances were something as huge as that beast sounded wouldn't care about a hiding place, however.   
In the time where the sun was beating down most upon them, the knowledge that they severely lacked water smacked them around a bit. The tree patches provided shade, but none of the plants were water holding. Meaning, they were apparently just south of the desert; good because it meant they had to travel a short distance to get to where they needed to go, bad because there were no cacti. If they were to become dehydrated, it'd be all over.   
They didn't really have much of a choice other than to go on, though. There _would_ be a river coming up soon that emptied out into the ocean, Kyrie knew for certain. Just a couple of miles after that would be exactly where they were aiming for. Until then, however... they were rather stuck.   
Or thought they were, until she heard a distinct humming buzz. Most animals would mistake it for a fly of some kind and not bother. But from childhood, Kyrie knew better. It was a cexussum frog. And frogs can only live where there is _water_. Passing into the next small forest oasis, she was sure of it. "Water." She announced simply.   
"Where?" Cloud looked around as though he were expecting to see a mountain of it.   
Kyrie closed her eyes, focussing on the sound. Sure enough, stepping forward and moving a large tropical fern's branch out of the way, there was a small pond with a red and orange frog sitting on the side.   
Vincent was impressed. But he didn't show it. He simply kneeled next to her and inspected the water's surface. It didn't look dirty. But looks were deceiving. "Is it safe to drink?"   
She swallowed, staring at the frog. It stared back with silted alien eyes, pretending she didn't even exist. "Cexussum frogs aren't known to choose dirty water. Supposedly that's why the Esthar Spring Water 'mascot' is a cexussum frog."   
"Yeah," Cloud added, "But how long has that frog been sitting in it?"   
Kyrie grinned. "It's a chance we have to take."   
"I agree." Vincent commented quietly. While his companion did have a point, this was going to be a desperate situation very soon. And he himself had been through a hell of a lot worse than drinking frog water.   
It was then that the three of them really understood the danger of wandering around the unoccupied areas of Galbadia. They _felt_ the footstep as they heard it. Large. Heavy. Not too friendly, they were all guessing.   
It took only a second for Kyrie to prepare herself. Maybe she'd been an idiot to have ignored those calls--as if they could have done anything about it anyway--before, but now it was important to face up to whatever the hell it was. One breath, one stilling moment; her hand went to the hilt of her gunblade.   
An unfamiliar feeling encompassed her as she grasped her weapon. It wasn't at all uncomfortable; just the opposite. It was like... Vincent and Cloud were on her wavelength. Were reading her thoughts. As she turned, her new companions followed suit, weapons ready.   
_Oh. Yeah._ She realized what the sound was now, alright. From a news program. About a whole family being slaughtered. And the sound the beast had made was, as the reporter put it, "A sound to run away from at all costs". It was a Hexadragon; but upon closer inspection, it wasn't... quite. It did have the body, the overall appearance. But it looked a little... mutated. Dangerously inbred, maybe. Its jaw wasn't quite set right, and the teeth were almost too big for the beast. The legs, even though it was crouched, looked weak and elongated. Advantage, yes... unless it was pissed off about these particular features.   
"Alright..." Kyrie began very softly. "Supposedly... if we back away... everything will be okay."   
Cloud glared at her for a fraction of a second. But, it was too tempting not to try, obviously. If they could save their bullets for later (who knew what the hell else lurked around here?), then they may as well try. So, on the same beat, they began to very carefully step backward.   
At first, the beast appeared almost amused; if that were possible. It dropped its head and stared at them out of its irregularly green and yellow eyes, a line of drool coming from between its teeth. Quiet breath, no movement. And then it lunged, directly at Kyrie.   
_Well, fuck it, then._ She thought, raising her gunblade and darting forward to impale the beast. Maybe the problem was that it had not watched the same news report. Or maybe it was the one that killed that family. Either way, it was not going to get away with being so rude.   
"Oh shit." It was a clean cutting, matter-of-fact statement. Her gunblade was caught in the beast's shoulder blade. But there was no fucking way she was letting it get away with her weapon. It was struggling wildly, screeching with pain, trying to take a limb off of her, but she wasn't interested. She wanted her gunblade back. _Now_. The Hexadragon had attacked first, after all. She wasn't even going to touch it until it lunged at her. The least it could do was give her weapon back.   
Completely disregarding all else, she got a better grip on the hilt with both hands and fired. Irregularly thick, almost gray blood splattered everywhere. But the blade was still stuck; now between the shoulder blade and several fragments of bone, preventing the blood from acting as a lubricant.   
So, she fired twice more in rapid succession. The beast wailed and rolled it's huge body away from her; just sharply enough to disengage her blade. _Now_ for the killing blow. She threw her arms, her weapon, her consciousness toward that bulge on its neck, firing another bullet as it ripped apart. Blood gushed in an unbelievable stream that she barely avoided. Just a spot on her boot, nothing to worry about.   
Cloud and Vincent looked at one another silently. There was really nothing to be said. Not in front of her, anyway...   
"Little bastard." She murmured, holding her weapon across her shoulder for a moment, looking down at the dead beast. As its blood bubbled out, it congealed almost instantly into a grayish-green pool of jelly. At least that meant none of it would get into the water. She turned back to see that frog still staring at her, not having moved in the least. "Let that be a lesson to you." 


	10. Chapter 10

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. It's innuendo city in this chapter, though. Spooky.   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 10   
by Orin Drake 

The rest of the "descent down the mountain" went smoothly, considering. They had certainly hit quite a bit of luck with the water. So far so good, no one felt sick or anything. The frog did stick its tongue out at them as they left, though. Oh well, no pleasing everyone.   
With another great bit of luck (and they all thought the universe sure as hell owed them after the whole almost getting trapped under the ground and dying thing), sunset brought on a bit of coolness. Not enough to directly notice, but it sure helped ease the journey a little, a cool breeze "blowing the stink off", as it were. By now the scent of ocean was actually thick in the air, illustrating the fact that they were definitely traveling closely along the coastline. Not long now, but they wouldn't be getting there tonight.   
They kept moving on well into twilight, until no light from the sun lit the horizon. Judging from what they'd already experienced, it probably would not have been smartest to keep going though the darkness of an almost nonexistent moon. No telling what other freaks lurked in the dark. Therefore, it was time to look for a good spot to make camp.   
The perfect place met them mere steps away from the very bottom of the mountain itself, complete with a long dead fire pit. By the look of how the ground had been worn, it had once been a popular camp (for drifters, most likely). But when they approached, the coals were nearly all blown to dust and away, the surrounding weeds having begun to reclaim it. Chances were that it was still a good spot for the night, close to another little patch of forest but far enough away to keep the flames under control and have excellent visage of any unwanted creatures.   
Since it wasn't exactly as if they'd packed for the occasion, there wasn't all that much acknowledgment of camp in general. No tents, no beds, no food. Just the collecting of dry sticks and branches. Exactly how to make fire was of concern only until Vincent had suggested Cloud check _all_ of his pockets. He'd been sleeping a long time, but he was aware that his blonde friend probably hadn't overcome his absent mindedness from time to time. It was worth the chance. And, unbelievably, it actually paid off. All those years ago, he'd carried a little piece of flint with him for just such an emergency. Since he had simply packed up his battle gear and put it away after he was done with it, the flint remained in place. Absolutely unbelievable dumb luck. Not that anyone was complaining, of course. Dumb luck was still luck, and it was important to take advantage of everything possible.   
Things looking up (except for the lack of beds and food), Kyrie got up and stretched, away from the fire. What a day. What a fucking mess. And again, what a day. Not that her life had entirely lacked "excitement" up to this point, but... geez. It was frustrating. Firstly, being torn away from home and Rodger and... well, everything, really. Secondly, her parents were missing. That platinum-haired freak was more than likely responsible. Hell, she knew he was. She just didn't know how she knew that. It was beyond mere paranoia.   
To add to that, they were out here. No, it wasn't quite the middle of nowhere. But for all she knew, it may as well be. Would they actually find a ship at the coast? She knew they ought to, but... she remembered what the inn looked like after Sephiroth had had his way with it. All the people... But then, the inn was still standing at least. Maybe that was an up side. She almost laughed at that stupid thought.   
Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around herself as she stared back to the central ring of mountains from where they'd come. It's not that the night was cold, exactly. Hell, they had a fire burning close, were that the case. It was the combined happenings of the past few hours mixed with a growing chilly wind from the east of all places this time of year that made for goose bumps and shivers.   
Vincent raised an eyebrow behind her, finally bearing witness to just what a colorful painting of pain she had across her back, the bruises so bright that they looked fresh. Still much to be filled in upon, he supposed. But it was rude to leave her without some sort of covering when her back was exposed, hurt or otherwise. Not that he was one for gentlemanly behavior, but he knew that much. So, he stepped up to her and unbuckled his cape, handing it over without a word.   
Kyrie looked at the fabric for a moment, mentally taking note that it was as old but still as well preserved as the belt she still had on her. In one sense, it bothered her that she was ending up with this guy's stuff. In another, it was really quite comforting, strange as it may seem. "Are you sure, Vincent?" she questioned, seeing how thin the material of his shirt seemed to be.   
"Of course." He gently pressed it back into her hands. "I'm well without it."   
She swallowed, still uncertain. She didn't want to stomp on his kindness, but she really didn't want to have to be the weak one who needed taking care of. "I feel like a thief, with all of your stuff."   
He looked puzzled at her words. "You cannot be a thief when things are given to you."   
That actually sounded quite intelligent at the moment. "True." She agreed. Part of her still didn't want to, but she gratefully gave in. "Thank you."   
Cloud raised an eyebrow as he watched her buckle the cape around her shoulders, saying absolutely nothing. How... odd. How amusing. How... well, how weird. He didn't really want to say that, though. Not right now. Absolutely no comment at all seemed most appropriate for the moment. He kept himself perfectly serious without the raw belly laugh that threatened him as she walked back to the fire.   
"Now what?" she inquired, indicating... everything.   
The meaning of the words knocked him out of his good humor for the time being. "Now... we sleep, I guess." He paused, reading deeper into the question. "No food. No water. No entertainment. What else are we gonna do?"   
The answer came in the form of a high pitched screeching sound jittering from the trees behind Kyrie, perking her up instantly. Were it not for the dark of night, they'd certainly have seen it coming before it shrieked. While Cloud and Vincent were pulling their weapons and trying to mentally attach a creature to the sound, Kyrie drew her gunblade and turned with an instant recognition. _Easy._   
A clean slice and and bullet through the neck just for good measure, a fully grown cockatrice rolled forward on legs that didn't yet realize they had no more impulses raging through them from an attached brain. She'd gone cockatrice hunting with her parents every so often since she was ten years old. It was good meat, and the wild ones had a better taste than the tame ones. She'd never almost been run over by one before, but there was a first time for everything. Waiting until the legs had stopped jerking to avoid the dangerous talons, she announced, "This solves the food problem."   
Cloud stood there, perfectly still, hand still wrapped around the hilt of the sword that had never left his back, staring. She had one hell of a killer instinct, alright. He was impressed. He really was. But it sort of came across as shock.   
Kyrie merely grinned at his reaction. She wasn't one to brag. But she wasn't one to let her astounding accomplishments pass anyone by, either.   
During the effort to hang the beast from its feet (to bleed the body easier), she distinctly noticed the absence of Vincent. It didn't piss her off or anything, but it was very apparent only she and Cloud were doing the cleaning. She was pretty damn certain that he wasn't the squeamish type... And when Cloud had very subtly made a tourniquet for the neck so as to, it appeared to her strange mind, keep some blood in the head... Well, needless to say, she was somehow reminded of bad science fiction movies. Her interest was piqued. Now probably wasn't the proper time to ask if his friend was some undead freak of nature, though.   
She had better things to concentrate on. Like carving up the bird. It was clear they wouldn't be able to eat all of this among the three (two?) of them, so she made only the choicest of cuts along the breast (whatever was left would certainly attract scavengers in the hot sun tomorrow). Every once in a while she would glance over at the blonde who wasn't helping, seeing a slightly sick look across his face. That made her grin regardless of trying so hard not to. She didn't want him to think she was taunting him, but... damn it was funny. Mr. I'm 1,000 Years Old and Went After Sephiroth Before and Lived couldn't take a little cockatrice dissection. So, she sent him off with a look to get something to roast the meat on.   
When Cloud came back, Vincent was behind him, not looking all that eager to have followed. As they walked past her (and she tried not to look at the pale man curiously), Cloud began, "Did you say you used to be a good cook?"   
"That was well over a mere thousand years ago." Vincent grunted.   
"Yeah, well... humor us."   
Interesting tone of voice Cloud had used. Now her disturbingly television deprived mind really began to work. The words had been rather a... forceful invitation. She smiled in spite of herself, realizing just how stupid she was being. What, an undead freak offered her a cape? Nah. Cut by cut, they pierced the meat and held it over the fire, waiting.   
It smelled good. Quite good. It was a bit annoying that they didn't have any seasonings, but plain meat was just fine. Kyrie hadn't even really realized she was hungry until she could smell the food cooking; then her stomach had constricted and made several unladylike noises. Cloud laughed until his stomach responded with a series of mild jabbing pains. But all through this process of cooking, Vincent didn't look the least bit interested. He seemed... distracted. Or forcefully so, like he was trying to concentrate on anything but eating.   
Interesting. It became more so interesting when he politely declined a piece of cooked bird with the wave of his hand, after Cloud had only halfheartedly offered it. But, Kyrie said nothing. Part of her reveled in this strange sci-fi idea. The other part of her simply did not want to be rude.   
Not that eating in front of someone _wasn't_ extremely rude. But Vincent was clearly focussing elsewhere. She made short work of her piece due to serious hunger and the desire to get it over with so maybe she could tear some more information out of the two of them, and reclined back in a massive stretch, leisurely supporting herself (and keeping the cape relatively clean of dirt) with her elbows.   
Finally it appeared that the other set of red eyes focussed. "Cloud..." Vincent whispered. "...I'm hungry." When the blonde nodded toward him, he merely got up and walked over to where the cockatrice head was so subtly hung. Without a word, he pulled the knot and took the whole thing with him beyond the trees.   
Well. There was her proof, wasn't it? Only one way to find out. Out of all of the questions she could have asked and all of the curiosity she was filled with, one in particular seemed most prevalent in the situation. "He doesn't eat with anyone?"   
"You could say that." Cloud responded delicately. "He doesn't really... uhh... eat." The technical reasons, he didn't even begin to imagine. Whatever had happened along the way, Vincent had developed the need to... change his eating habits.   
A wide smile spread across Kyrie's lips. _A-ha!_ To herself mostly, she commented, "Always knew there were vampires."   
The blonde stared at her, gaping. He supposed _"How'd you know?"_ was a bit of a dumb question by now. But those red eyes... he wondered about her bloodline. Her parents. Her... eating habits.   
"What's your story then?" she interrupted.   
"Me?" he sighed. Hell, they may be together for a while yet. And he more or less knew all about her, so... only fair. "Long story. Ever hear of Jenova?"   
She shuddered. "Sephiroth used the word. But I didn't understand it then any better than now."   
Cloud shook his head in disbelief. Never did he think he'd see Sephiroth again. After that last battle, he'd seen nothing left of him. There was simply no body left to regenerate. "Long story short, then." He was certain she was intelligent enough to follow his explanation, whether or not she could actually believe it. "Jenova was more or less an immortal alien creature. Anyone injected with her cells takes on some of her immortality... and I was. So was Sephiroth. But he has a lot more of it. It started before birth, with him."   
"And Vince is a natural vampire?" she tried to get a grasp on all of this.   
Cloud grinned, having heard his companion being referred to as "Vince". "Not exactly. He was 'normal' once. I'm... not really sure what happened to him. He never really let me in on the details."   
"The claw?" she gently pressed.   
"Same thing. I'm just not sure." He admitted. "But what I do know of the situation... Sephiroth's father was... one crazy son of a bitch."   
"I can only imagine." She mumbled bitterly. "Mother... fucker..."   
"Ladies shouldn't be talking like that." Cloud teased.   
She was glad for the humor, if only for a second. "I never claimed to be among _that_ crowd."   
He smiled sadly. She was kinda like Tifa. A little bit, anyway. Tifa must have died a long damn time ago, though. He wouldn't at all be surprised if he could trace her bloodline to Kyrie. Or from Vincent... It was becoming a more and more interesting point the more he thought about it.   
She shivered suddenly with the memory of Sephiroth's eyes hitting her from nowhere. "He's not... 'all there', is he?" she made a little swirling motion by her ear to indicate a general lack of sanity.   
Cloud laughed bitterly. "To say the least. I don't think a thousand years helped that any."   
An uncomfortable feeling encased Kyrie's chest for a moment. "But... he's not quite... right." She paused, trying to put her words together in a way to make him understand. "I mean... he's like one of those stacking toys... a layer within a layer... and most of them are completely insane... but there's something very different, very _human_, under them all..."   
"That's the thing." Cloud whispered uneasily. "He didn't used to be like this. He used to be... so much better. A really good fighter. And a pretty nice guy, I guess. But he just... he went insane. He's still _going_ insane. It just gets worse."   
"He said my parents were his students..." she murmured distantly. "I wonder if that's true..." Unconsciously, she placed her hand in her pocket. Cold metal met the fingertips, and she suddenly remembered; Griever's chain was still broken. She pulled it out and looked at it in silence for a moment, unable to think of any way to actually fix it. So, taking that much in stride, she placed the broken ends around her neck and tied them together. It was a bulky knot, but it would hold. And it finally fit her, a certain plus to the situation.   
Cloud actually remembered that pendant from Squall's many visits. It had even more or less become a symbol of overcoming the last great threat of the world. It was fitting, of course, that she would have it. "Worried about your... fathers?" his intent was sincere, as weird as it sounded to him to ask about plural male parents. Sure he'd been around, but he'd never used the word "fathers" before.   
She blinked though she'd been knocked awake. "Yeah." She slowly ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "This just... this isn't how it's supposed to happen."   
"What?" Cloud leaned in a little closer, hugging his knees. It was a nervous thing that he never seemed able to rid himself of.   
She shook her head slowly. "You aren't supposed to have to save the world twice in one lifetime. And Dad... Squall fought hard for life and freedom, too. I thought, being the next generation, I was supposed to have it fucking easy."   
"Hm." Cloud commented. He saw her point. But then, he knew of Seifer Almasy. His daughter seemed to be paying for his sins more than she was enjoying Squall's loyalties to the rest of the world.   
Their conversation, however, was interrupted by the obvious cocking of a shotgun. They both swallowed, very slowly turning their heads with wide eyes, thinking the end had come at a pretty indecent time. And in a pretty unexpected way, besides.   
The figure in the dark seemed stunned for a moment. Then it asked, unbelieving, "Kyrie?!"   
_No, fucking, way._ Her thoughts were no longer coherent. _How the hell did--?_ "_Rodger?!_"   
The gun went down immediately. He wanted to run up to her, hug her and tell her he never thought he'd see her again, that he was just following some insane hunch when he came across her for real, and that he'd still really like to spend the rest of his life with her... but maybe it wasn't quite the right time. She was in a strange cape next to a strange man with incredibly disturbing blue eyes. Anything he'd said right then probably would have sounded stupid, so he went for simplicity. "Can I... uh... join you?"   
Cloud raised an eyebrow. Kyrie nodded. "He's cool."   
"Sure." The blond agreed, seeing an obvious recognition. "Now we've got two gunmen and two swordsmen."   
"Technically two gunmen, a swordsman, and a gunswordsman." Kyrie corrected, trying to loosen the strangle hold of tension the previous moment still had on them. She smiled up at Rodger as he stepped beside her, not quite sure if he ought to "sit among them" yet or not.   
He willingly took her smile as invitation enough, and relaxed next to her. So many damn questions. So much to say. But he would not forget his manners. He slowly extended his hand to the blonde with the big-ass sword on his back. "Rodger Kinneas."   
Cloud nodded, shaking the boy's hand. "Cloud Strife. I guess you're an ally."   
"Yeah, you could say that." Rodger admitted. The quick glance he gave Kyrie was the rest of the answer.   
Cloud instantly recognized that look. They knew each other, alright. And he felt inclined to stand up and stretch rather suddenly. "I'm... going to... I'll be back. Later." Cloud politely wandered into the forest with only a glance back. Young love needed a little space.   
Kyrie smiled and waved, grateful for his ever so subtle retreat. As the sound of footsteps through the brush faded, she sighed and leaned up against Rodger in silence.   
It wasn't really any sort of uncomfortable situation. More like... pretty damn weird. But he was exceedingly glad to be with her again. "So... how are you?" he asked, scooting closer.   
She seemed to be listening to something off in the distance before she responded with a light touch of humor. "Fine, fine. How'd you get here?"   
"Train. Until they refused me service. Then car." Rodger bantered back. "And then it ran out of gas. And here I am." He gave in at last, feeling relatively confident in their safety, wrapping his arms around her. It was pure, absolute dumb luck that he'd run across her. A hunch, a completely unable to be ignored feeling in his gut, that could very well have made him miss her entirely (and a severe reprimand for abandoning Garden when he got back, he was sure). But he wasn't about to acknowledge the idea that he easily could have passed her and not thought twice about it. Luck, fate, whatever. All that mattered was a moment in the firelight.   
She returned the affection wholeheartedly, but cringed when he squeezed her shoulders. Her back still flared with pain, and the bruises sure as hell didn't feel like they were healing any.   
Rodger released right away, feeling her body jerk. "What is it?"   
"Sorry." She mumbled without letting go of him even an inch. "Back and shoulder trauma."   
He blinked. "That... doesn't sound good."   
"Doesn't feel good, either." She admitted, forcing herself to pull away from him just for a moment.   
He didn't let her continue, a dangerous look in his eyes. "That Cloud guy didn't do anything..?"   
"No." She assured firmly. "No, he actually saved me from the freak that kidnapped me."   
Rodger very gently put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her in for a short but meaningful kiss. "I was so, fucking worried." He opened his mouth to continue, but decided he'd rather have the moment than the memories. When she had just disappeared from Garden entirely... it had been frightening. He certainly didn't want to tell her about the other weird shit going on. Not yet. He wanted to see why she'd cringed. "Show me?"   
She shrugged lightly, lifting away from him. "If you really want to see it." She halfway joked, carefully unbuckling the cape. Not forgetting it had been a borrowed gift, she gently folded it and put it in her lap, then pulled her hair to the side and leaned forward.   
"Shit..." Rodger whispered, very softly drawing his fingertips across one of the darker areas. The welt wasn't open, as it had been. But it was sure as hell still there, and very much visible.   
She hissed as her skin burned with the attention. Not so much burned as just... hurt fiercely. "Yeah. I just _had_ to wear this shirt."   
"Who did this?" he asked quietly, gently wrapping his arms around her again. He tried very hard to suppress the anger threatening to take itself out on some poor, unwitting... anything.   
"A fucking lunatic." She responded distantly. She wasn't sure she wanted to revisit the events that brought her to that point in their entirety. "Long, confusing story. But he's someone that almost destroyed my parents, I think."   
He supposed now was as good a time as any, really. "About your parents..." he paused, swallowing.   
"I know." She stopped him. "I heard yesterday from a damned _thief_. Do they know anything besides the fact that they're missing?"   
He shrugged with a sigh. "All I know is that they were last seen heading home from the train station, and there was no sign of a struggle in their house. The car was parked and the front door was locked from the inside."   
She had a _really _bad feeling about that. Obviously, only one person came to mind. Sephiroth.   
Rodger read enough into that blast of emotion that ran through her body to know she certainly wasn't at ease with any of the details. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, remembering what it'd felt like when his own father just disappeared. Obviously, those were different circumstances. But he could imagine it.   
Quietly, she repeated the empty tripe Seifer used to when he was really, truly worried about something. "It'll turn out alright." She paused for a moment, realizing how stupid that sounded. And how far from herself she'd just traveled for no good reason. They didn't know anything for sure. There was no reason to worry so much just yet. So, she invited, jokingly, "You're here to take my mind off of it, though."   
He chuckled at that. "Do you want to... uh... you know..."   
It felt good to act like an idiot again. "I would." She admitted seriously. "But there happens to be a very pale man watching us right now."   
His jaw slackened. But then he picked up right where he left off. "Hey, we could do a threesome thing, or exhibitionism..."   
Kyrie laughed and lightly kicked him in the knee. "The whole world need not know these things."   


Vincent grinned from well behind the trees. She had good instincts. He couldn't get the redness of her eyes from his mind; they _were_ so much like his that he wondered... Were they actually somehow connected? But how could they be?   
His curiosity was interrupted as his companion finally found him. "Seriously. Do you know anything about that?" Cloud cut to the chase instantly, indicating Kyrie as an object.   
Vincent let the smallest of grins spontaneously cross the plain of his face. "Honestly, I don't." He paused, watching the two young love birds just lay in the comfort of one another's presence. "There is a strange resemblance though, isn't there?"   
The blonde scoffed. "No shit, Valentine. Are you _sure_ you don't know anything about that?"   
"I've been asleep a long time." His lips twitched, trying their damnedest not to turn upward. "Maybe I've forgotten."   
Cloud made a disgusted face, but continued. "Do you recognize the names Leonhart or Almasy?"   
Vincent shook his head. "Neither." He paused, the curiosity finally getting to him. "What happened to her back?"   
Cloud humphed quietly. "Sephiroth. That's all I know."   
The pale man shook his head lightly. "He only marks his prey..."   


"Hyne I missed you..." Kyrie let the words fall in a whisper from her lips, her eyes closed and her body relaxed against his.   
Rodger smiled, taking a deep breath. "I missed you, too. I though you were..." he paused, thinking of when he came knocking and Kyrie never answered. He'd gotten Quistis to open the door, and still no Kyrie. No signs of her being abducted, but neither were there signs of her leaving on her own. Silly as it sounded, seeing the untouched muffin just laying on the ground was his first true indication of the enormous danger. "Well, I don't know." In truth, he really didn't want to think about it.   
"I would never have left." She assured quietly.   
"I know." He responded. "So... now what happens?"   
"Now I find the asshole that took me away and kill him." She growled quietly.   
He swallowed at that. Not that it was entirely unexpected, but the tone of her voice... was beyond serious. "Do you think it has something to do with your parents?"   
A deep, stilling breath. _Just breathe, just breathe..._ "I know it does. I just don't... exactly know how, yet."   
A long silence. Breathing. Heartbeats. But no words. Just passing thoughts, floating over like clouds on a summer day. Finally he spoke up, "Well, you're not going alone."   
"You're right." She agreed with a grin he couldn't see. "Cloud and Vincent are coming with me."   
"Hmph." It was so good to have that back. To have _her_ back. To be feeling all those mushy things he always used to roll his eyes at... or point and laugh at. "Well, I'm coming, too. And why haven't I met this Vincent yet?"   
"Oh, you will. Soon." She raised her voice just a little. "They're watching us _riiiiiight_ now." Very, very quietly, she whispered against his ear, "He's kinda hot. In a scary kind of way."   
Why that made Rodger chuckle was almost beyond him. He _ought_ to be feeling... jealous? Enraged? Disgusted? But their little game of "see who gets creeped out first" had already begun again. He whispered back, just as softly, "Yeah? I'll be the judge of that."   
That was met with spontaneous silence and a very slowly spreading smile. How... um... "sweet" worked. On cue, the two voyeurs stepped through the trees.   
Cloud was eager to pretend he actually hadn't been watching them, stretching and looking legitimately tired. Vincent, though, had a gleam in his eye. She'd already caught him, what was the point? She didn't freak out or anything.   
As Rodger lifted himself off of the ground, he stared at this... whatever the hell it was. He was as caught by his appearance as Kyrie was. Very pale. Very skinny. But those very red eyes were something else. Finding his manners weren't buried as deep as he thought they might be a second before, he cleared his throat and offered his hand. "Rodger Kinneas."   
_Oh, this ought to be good._ Kyrie tried not to grin like a moron.   
Vincent stared at the boy's hand for a moment. He glanced at Kyrie's expression, then back at the hand. Well, if he wanted it... "Vincent Valentine." He introduced, taking the boy's hand into his metal claw.   
Rodger had not been ready for that. The manners that his mother had instilled upon him from birth prevented him from either pulling away or shrieking, however. He just tried to look very polite. When he glanced over at Kyrie, she had a hand over her mouth, trying not laugh.   
"So..." Rodger attempted shakily as he took his hand back. "We're the good guys."   
Cloud thought that was fucking hilarious. Between the two of the "new kids", they were going to have one hell of a good time hunting down the psycho freak.   


The sleeping situation wasn't so comfortable. But at least she was curled up next to Rodger. That did make things a hell of a lot better. Just a little nap before morning, and then they'd move on. If nothing had touched the cockatrice carcass by then, they might even have breakfast.   
At least the sleep came easily. Warm, comfortable... enough. Just blackness mixed with dreams... mixed with this voice... "Kyrie." she heard purring. She tried desperately to ignore it, but a hand joined in the voice's efforts to wake her by shaking her shoulder. "Come, Kyrie. Wake up."   
Familiar voice... Was it Dad? Breakfast? No, too early, she was still too sleepy to--she met feral, glowing eyes. Green. Cat eyes. She instantly darted away from him, almost forgetting that she was laying down; just tried to get away, get him to let go.   
And that did, slowly, with a squeeze of her arm superior smirk upon his face. "Ah. Hello, Kyrie."   
Panic. Sheer and utter, complete panic; not even the seething rage she felt for him could break its shell. Nothing prepared her for this. She left his eyes just long enough to glance over at her friends, finding them all completely still. "What did you do to them?"   
He smiled almost sincerely. "It's just a sleeping spell. They're fine."   
Her eyes sliced through him. "What are you doing here?"   
An amused smirk greeted her question. "I've come to make you a very interesting offer."   
The words, _"I'm not interested"_ did indeed come to mind. They were just at the tip of her tongue, tickling her lips. But she stopped them from coming out. An offer? A deal? She was not naive enough to think it would be a fair one. Neither was she stupid enough to buy anything he said as the whole truth. Or anything close to that. But she could not deny that she wanted to hear him out. "What is it?"   
A smile; as much devious as it was honest. He sat gracefully in front of her, legs pulled casually close to his body as if to surround him. One gloved hand pressed against the ground to prop himself up so he could lean closer. From his other hand came a greenish glow nearly as vibrant as that of his eyes, emanating straight from his upturned palm. As the glow intensified, it seemed to become _whole_, somehow. The light itself seemed to become matter, glowing and moving into a ball that gleamed like a miniature sun with hues of greens she was certain she'd never seen in nature.   
"Do you know what this is?" he whispered, watching the light with her.   
She shook her head in awe. She wasn't sure if she should try to speak, as her voice would more than likely give away her wonder. She did not want him to have the advantage.   
He smiled provocatively and met her eyes. "This is Materia. Old magic from long before guardian forces."   
Incredible. It was absolutely... incredible. A form of magic before guardian forces. One that did not appear sentient... but of course, anything was possible. She was overwhelmed with the urge to reach out and touch it as it floated just above his fingertips, burning as a tiny star among stars.   
"This one is rather special, though." He continued, his voice lowering. "This is Ultima." He laughed softly at the silent recognition in her eyes. "No doubt you've heard of this magic. It's some of the most powerful we know, certainly."   
She forced her eyes away from the orb for just long enough to look her former captor over. It was no doubt not this easy. He wasn't insane enough to surrender power. "And what do you want in exchange?"   
He laughed, sounding nearly surprised. "You're a pretty girl. Don't fuck that up by being smart." The orb shifted its colors, becoming darker as he kept speaking. "All you have to do is use this on them. Leave them weakened enough for the beasts... or kill them. Then you may continue whatever insane quest you've outlined for yourself, having to do with me."   
She refused to look back at that materia in fear that its unworldly colors may distract her. She was now somehow _certain_ he had everything to do with her parents' disappearance. "And why the hell would I ever kill them?"   
"You don't even _know_ them." His voice suddenly switched to a seductive crooning. "They are pests, as bothersome as locusts. Just rid yourself of them in their sleep. No guilt, no consequence. You and your heart throb there can probably find passage to wherever you think I am, safely. Then we're both wiped clean of their bothersome presence. They've lived long enough, don't you think? Everyone wins."   
Even keeping his warped senses in mind, that just did not make sense. She turned his words over and over again in her head, watching the spin of the materia's greens. There was something... convincing there, certainly. Four mouths to feed, four people to look after one another, to move together. Two would be easier, there was no doubt about that. They could move faster to find her parents. But... "But you're here. Why don't you just get rid of them yourself?"   
He looked absolutely delighted. "I've only just begun to regain what I'd lost. I'm not _really_ here with you. Not physically. But enough to have carried a materia to you. And enough to carry it back, if we don't have a deal."   
She hesitantly let the orb take her mind for just a bit, just a second, wondering what power it would give her. "If I agree to zap them in their sleep, then I get Ultima? And you'll leave me alone?"   
His smile widened considerably. "Indeed. Unless you find me, of course." His teeth looked far sharper than they had before. "Then I cannot honor that last part."   
She looked back at the materia, thinking. It was a stretch, sure. But Ultima was no longer reachable in the world by natural means. The draw points had more or less disappeared after Ultimecia was killed. Just the flaring swirls of color, the magic and power they held within, if she could master that... "Alright." She whispered suddenly.   
Sephiroth held himself in check. "It's a deal then?"   
Kyrie swallowed, looking into the vacuum of his eyes. "It's a deal." 


	11. Chapter 11

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out. It's innuendo city in this chapter, though. Spooky. 

_A note to the hard-core FF7 fans: I have taken a little artistic license with the whole materia system. This is simply because... I think my idea is cooler. *grin*_

The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 11   
by Orin Drake 

She sat there in the dirt, staring out at nothing for quite some time. She was... rather stunned. The moment she had touched the materia, it had _absorbed_ into her flesh. Not like water through cloth, however; not quite that easily. It had hurt a bit. Burned more than anything, like lemon juice in a paper cut. Only on a slightly larger scale. And the feeling of something that was only halfway "there" just... melding with her. She could still _feel_ it, but only if she concentrated.   
So. Sephiroth had left her with an Ultima materia. All alone. With this deal. The main problem of the moment: how to use this new tool to her advantage. And there was obviously only one way to do that.   
"Cloud!" she called, shaking him right out from under the spell.   
"Wh--!" he awoke suddenly to nothing short of an earthquake.   
A lopsided grin met him, her eyes glittering with some awful intent, so it appeared. "Teach me how to use Materia."   
As the spell broke for one of them, it seemed to lift from all of them. Rodger stirred with a typical "up too early" groan, and Vincent sat bolt upright at having heard her words.   
"Ma-Materia?" fear tinged the wide awake blue eyes. "Where the hell did you get Materia from?"   
Utterly bluntly, Kyrie responded, "It was part of a one ended deal with Sephiroth."   
Now _that_ got him to sit up. "What?!" Cloud shrieked. "You made a deal with _Sephiroth_?"   
"Are you kidding?" she challenged. "What, you think I'd really do _anything_ for that psycho?" She lowered her voice, closing her eyes and _feeling_ the materia beat with her own heart. "For a 'god', he sure was fucking stupid to make a deal with me."   
Vincent almost felt a greedy sense of... pride at that. Why pride came to mind and not satisfaction, he didn't bother to understand. He'd been sleeping a long time.   
Cloud was nearly sorry he'd doubted her. But no one could be too careful in dealings with, as she so aptly put it, "that psycho". He shook his head, trying to figure this one out. "Do you know which Materia?"   
Well, if what Sephiroth had said was true... "Ultima." She tried a sincerely nonchalant tone.   
She was met with only a dazed stare. The blonde finally rubbed his eyes with a deep breath and murmured, "I think I'm still dreaming."   
"Sephiroth gave you Ultima in exchange for..?" Vincent ventured, astounded. Ultima was amazing enough on its own, but Sephiroth having _given_ it to her... there must have been quite a deal.   
"Oh, just killing you." She couldn't help the hint of a cocky grin.   
At first, there was silence. Long and too shocked to end. But then Rodger took the initiative with a stretch and a yawn. "You must be way too good at lying." He had developed faith in her after all this time. But, still. It was a little scary, a deal like that. Or maybe the fact this guy believed her... he had a lot to get filled in on. He still wasn't sure what the big deal was, but... he understood how serious it was.   
"Okay." Cloud finally agreed, Rodger's words having broken up the tension a bit. He didn't have any reason to distrust her now, did he? Though, at the back of his mind was the nagging thought that he had no reason to trust her, either... But certainly he and Vincent could overcome her, Ultima or not. He just sincerely hoped they wouldn't have to. He kinda liked her. "Sit."   
She did so eagerly, ready and willing to learn all this odd little orb had to show her. It had seemed like a big damn deal. And anything that could contain magic was of great help in the situation. Even if she didn't have the first clue how to use any of it.   
Cloud took a deep breath, trying to remember how the whole thing had been described to him. Of course, that came up just a touch blank. That was a really long time ago. So, he just put it in the most direct terms possible. "Materia is only as good as the person who holds it, makes it. If you don't use it from time to time, it'll never get faster or more powerful."   
_Oh, interesting._ She was catching on. "So, the more you use it, the better it becomes."   
"Right." The blonde agreed, glad to see she was a fast learner. "But if you use it too often, it'll drain your life energy. So you have to use it sparingly at first. And, if you aren't used to Materia, you can only carry a couple in the beginning."   
_A couple?_ she thought. _There are more?_ "Lucky me, I only have one."   
Cloud looked up and across the way at Vincent. "Do you have any more?"   
The pale man closed his eyes, concentrating. It'd been far too long to remember. He felt only one globe, pounding deeply but slowly inside of him. It was weaker than he ever remembered it being, but it was there. "Only Lightning."   
Cloud grunted. "I've got... Fire, Ice, Restore and Heal." He placed his hands on his hips and regarded Kyrie closely for a moment. She might be a beginner, but dammit, she could handle one more. Gently, he held his hand out, palm up, just a few inches from his chest, and took another deep breath. Slowly, the flesh on his palm began to glow with that eerie green the Ultima materia had caught her eye with. The skin itself began to bubble like it was being burned, but in a bright green explosion of light. As the glow intensified, the light became matter and formed a globe that pulled itself out of his skin and floated just an inch above his hand. He opened his eyes, panting slightly. "Kyrie, you take Heal. I don't know if there's anything poisonous out there, but..."   
"Are you sure you shouldn't keep it for yourself?" she asked, apprehensive about having the responsibility of it. She was new to this; she wasn't even sure if she could handle one, let alone two.   
Cloud held eye contact and nodded, standing by his decision. Her hesitation was quite understandable, but he had already made up his mind. "Yeah. Don't worry about it."   
She took a few breaths to steady herself, almost frightened to breathe across the gleaming orb. Slowly, delicately, she reached for it and noted with a gasp that, as her hand neared it, it simply floated over to her palm all by itself. As if it knew, as if it perhaps did have some consciousness... but it didn't feel like it did. Maybe it was something other than consciousness that drove it, but--her thoughts collided with brilliant green nothingness as Heal absorbed into her skin, that burning pain vibrating through her for only an instant, but just a little stronger than before. It was eerie, a little unnerving. But as the pain disappeared entirely, she felt almost a little... perk. A jump in energy. It felt good, honestly, and she grinned ever so slightly at Cloud.   
He smirked back, knowing the feeling was something akin to "warm and fuzzy". He couldn't imagine Kyrie liking "warm and fuzzy", and it was quite amusing. "Rodger, you take--"   
"Oh no." He responded to his name instantly. "I don't think it's safe for me to have anything like that around..."   
But Cloud would not be swayed from this decision, either. "You take Fire." He continued, confident. "It will be useful for your weapon."   
"These work with our weapons?" Kyrie asked, remembering her parents having spoken of magic and Guardian Forces that actually worked with their weapons long ago. Before the Guardian Forces were freed back from where they came, anyway.   
"Once you learn how to use them, you won't want to use your weapons without them." Cloud responded. "It might take some practice, though." He glanced at Rodger again, having stayed on the far side of Vincent.   
And Rodger knew he was being watched. Coaxed, really. He did _not_ want to do this. It was too weird. He'd heard all kinds of things about magic. While his mother was quite good... there were nothing but horror stories about his father. But, Kyrie's come hither glance seemed to warm him up to the idea--a little. Mostly it just gave him the balls to walk over and sit down beside her with a thud.   
"It's not so bad." His girlfriend was obviously trying very hard not to break out into a great big, all too cheery expression. "It just feels... weird."   
He couldn't help the chuckle. It was a little humor, and that was useful. Turning instantly into a horrified look on his face, he watched up close as Cloud levitated another gleaming green orb from his hand in what seemed an exceptionally grotesque act. Without wanting to, using his mind to forcefully drive his body, he reached out for it.   
It was actually an incredible feeling. Not... pleasant, really. Not even good. Not fun or something he ever really wanted to go through again. But it wasn't that bad. It was more interesting than anything, that burn all the way through his body, making its way even inside of his thoughts before dissipating into a steady hum; not one he could hear, but one he could feel. The materia was a part of him. "Damn." He stated, finally coming out of it.   
"Fun, huh?" Kyrie teased.   
"Less than you made it out to be." He grinned back subtly.   
"You two need to practice, first." Vincent suggested. "Then we will continue. Our destination isn't far, correct?"   
"Not at all." Kyrie responded, stretching out until she was in a standing position. That initial buzz had receded quite a bit, leaving only the feeling of not quite getting enough sleep, but being too excited to care to make another attempt at it. "The river should be close, and almost right after that is where we need to be."   
The pale man nodded, walking around to stretch his legs out. He would be most interested in watching them practice their Materia skills.   


Cloud had the two of them lined up together facing into the open, about ten paces apart (just in case). There was really no telling what sort of a reaction they'd get out of their Materia just yet, so it was better to be nice and safe. And not aim for anything in particular.   
"Okay..." the blonde began, chin in his hand. He wasn't really sure how to start this off. The words _"Have at it"_ didn't really work in this situation, as it had with him. "Well... you feel the pulse, right?"   
"Right." Kyrie responded, feeling two separate ones. They were beating at the same time, the same pace, but they were actually noticeably different. She could only suspect that if she held three, she'd be able to feel all three separately, as well. The thought was as eerie as it was surreal.   
"Yep." Rodger answered a little less than enthusiastically. It just felt so... odd. Add to that the nervousness that he was going to blow them all up or sneeze and ignite or something equally awful...   
"Good." Cloud walked behind them, ready to help but not ready to become a target. "Now... there's that beating rhythm in your chest. You have to... expand that to your fingertips. When you learn that, you can expand it to your weapon."   
"See? Easy." Kyrie joked.   
Cloud put a hand on her shoulder for just a moment, trying to pacify her unspoken concerns. "When you can feel the pulse, you can feel it move. Visualize it. _See_ it move into your fingers."   
"'See it move into your fingers...'" she repeated quietly, closing her eyes. There was obviously a little too much concentration at first, causing the Materia to feel like they were becoming solid boulders in her chest. And then there was not enough, the orbs turning to jelly and not reacting at all. She then took the words to heart, _seeing_ the Ultima orb in her mind's eye as it might look inside of her chest; complete darkness save a glowing green. Then she imagined that green light running through her veins with the blood, igniting the passageways through her body, roaming with speed and accuracy into her fingertips... "Ow."   
Cloud raised an eyebrow, having seen the very beginnings of what truly was Ultima work it's way from her hand. It was kind of like a miniature storm, really. Vincent watched from several feet away, amazed that someone with no experience was able to get a result the first time, small as it had been. It was rather like a tiny green cloud had formed over her hand and struck a miniature bolt of lightning rather than a massively destructive spell, but... hey, it was a start.   
Rodger stared in silence for a long moment. "That's not making me feel any better."   
Kyrie lightly rubbed her fingers together, the feeling of being lightly singed wearing off quickly. "Well... it's a beginning, right?"   
Shaking his head, Rodger was beginning to get even more apprehensive. He had _fire_. He might seriously cause himself harm. Not to mention everyone around him. He might accidentally burn down the whole continent.   
"Try." He heard Kyrie whisper. Not in a forceful or demanding way, like some other people he easily could have spat upon. It was more than just a word. Hell, it was a vote of confidence and a suggestion.   
_That's what I get for having a girlfriend._ He joked to himself, closing his eyes and breathing in deep, steady breaths. He would try. He was pretty good at visualizing--the thought gave him an unintentional grin from ear to ear. Just being that much at peace with the situation all of a sudden, Fire seemed to react instantly to his desires and rush in a green haze through his mind, shooting out his fingertips in a short-lived, delicate rain of sparks.   
"Pretty fuckin' cool." He heard Kyrie comment before he dared to open his eyes and see the damage. First, one eye opened. Then the other. Seeing no vast fire in front of him, he looked down just as the last ember died.   
"Keep your eyes open next time." Kyrie mouthed to him more than spoke.   
_Ah, young love._ Cloud thought, keeping his comments strictly to himself.   
"Another try." Kyrie suggested to herself. Again she closed her eyes, trying to keep herself calm and confident as Rodger had so obviously been at that moment. Sure it was a little reaction, but with practice came better results, right? This time she called upon Heal, picturing the green glow moving through the other hand. There was a definite response; she opened her eyes in time to catch just the faint glitter of some sort of shimmering light dancing just inches from her hand, raining down something that almost resembled smoke. It was gone, blown away with the wind just a moment later, but she had every right to feel just a touch cocky about that one.   
"You are both learning quickly." Vincent commented, walking a little closer. Their range obviously needed improvement. But the flow was there, and that was a good beginning. Especially for people who'd never encountered Materia before.   
Cloud thought perhaps it came from their parents being magic users. Hell, Kyrie had sorceress blood in her. That may explain her immediate ability at Ultima, small result as it had been. It would take time and effort.   
While Kyrie was still tentatively patting herself on the back, Rodger made a very cocky spin and held his hand out, pushing a little more energy with it. The rain of sparks sort of... exploded, this time. Not in a harmful way, but in a way that made Rodger suddenly less than cocky.   
Kyrie grinned widely, but kept her mouth shut. Some things were just better left unsaid.   


Breakfast was a nice break between practices. The cockatrice had gone completely untouched throughout the night (probably because of the silver haired freak, Kyrie thought), and a single thigh would provide a pretty good meal for all of them. While Vincent got up and "wandered off", Rodger gave Kyrie a bit of a look. She, like Cloud, pretended not to notice as she trimmed the bird.   
It had taken Rodger three tries and quite a bit of convincing, but he finally actually ignited the flames with his own fingertips. Cloud sat back in shocked silence for a while, thinking himself absolutely stupid for not remembering that _he_ could have done that. Of course, they found the flint, so it wasn't a big deal. But it did set him on a path of wondering what other things he didn't remember. It was beginning to bother him. Even as the two lovebirds quipped at one another and made joking challenges, his mind wandered. Were there any truly important things he could have forgotten? Something that could really help them out now? His mind had been a mess before due to Sephiroth's influence. Now it was due to time; possibly even a worse fate than before. He knew he needed to be very careful.   
The three of them ate, but sparingly. They had no water with them, so it wasn't a good idea to get full just yet. Granted that the river was close, but Kyrie could not be sure just how close. It was too much of a danger to even consider at that point.   
More or less out of amusement alone, Cloud offered to be Kyrie's first "victim" of Heal. She'd given him a slightly softer death stare than the one he'd received from her before, but she agreed. "Don't blame me if your turn into a Geezard, though." She warned.   
"Not with Heal." Cloud dismissed. "I wouldn't let you near any kind of Transformation Materia."   
Instead of a death stare this time, he got the tiniest jolt of Ultima. She was grinning like a big cat, knowing exactly what she was doing. Already she'd learned the strength of the materia depends upon how much you allow to pass through you. She might not have been that powerful yet, but she was learning quickly. Perhaps even a touch too quickly.   
"Remind me not to make an enemy of you." Cloud quipped, half seriously.   
"I don't think I need to remind you." Kyrie delivered the line gracefully with a straight face.   
Rodger tried very hard not to laugh. She was just ever so pleasant to everyone, wasn't she?   
"Wait on the Heal." Cloud suggested softly.   


With nothing to "pack up" before they left, they waited until Vincent had joined them again. It was a simple matter of putting out the fire (Cloud attempted his Ice with relative success--it melted into a small sprinkle of rain seconds afterward, but it was still ice at first) and walking away. The rest of the cockatrice was left on the ground a good distance from the camp for the local wildlife. At least they hoped that would keep any from going after them.   
What an odd feeling it was for Rodger to be traveling with a group. For Kyrie, too, though she had gotten a bit more used to it from the day before. It was like being in a herd, moving through the landscape on to another destination to feed or something. Only this was a little more serious. While he still had a hell of a lot to be briefed about, Rodger strangely had no desire to ask questions. Maybe he felt it best he didn't know exactly what was going on. He didn't fancy himself a coward... but he wanted nothing to do with the title of "bold hero", either. Looking at his father and his parents' friends, well... life wasn't so great for a hero, anyway.   
After only about an hour, they noticed the land began lightly sloping down. The further it sloped, the more grasses and plants there were. The river was incredibly close, and Kyrie began to see the signs of the simple bridge that crossed it, meant mostly for vehicles. With a sudden shift in breeze, the smell of ocean was absolutely clear as well; "Minutes away." She assured them   
But, of course, things never were that easy. They could see the shoreline of the sea just off in the distance to their left. They could even see the glistening of the river, and the bridge dead ahead and perfectly in tact and ready for the crossing. But there was something, something very large and four legged, standing just near the bridge's entrance. It wasn't clear what it was at first, but it caused the four of them to slow down just a little, breathing small sighs in dread.   
"Shit." Rodger commented quietly, finally able to make out the beast that appeared to have taken down quite a nice sized buck for itself. "Is that..?"   
"Chimera." Kyrie finished in amazement. Four heads, all of them gorging on the flesh with bloody jaws. Disturbing. "I guess they aren't extinct after all."   
"Not that I want to _make_ it extinct, but..." Cloud trailed off, indicating the small white form of a ship just past the creature. "Ugh. That thing is... ugly."   
"Strong, too." Kyrie commented. "They were only supposed to exist on certain islands." She paused, coming to a complete stop, glad the beast was being distracted by its meal. A suggestion came to mind, and she turned to Vincent. "Maybe you can put that Lightning to work. Give him/her/it a good jolt and run past."   
The pale man nodded slowly. It had been ages since he'd used his materia, so it wouldn't be strong enough to harm the beast. It might daze it just long enough for them to get to safety. Or... it might severely anger it. "It's worth a try."   
Kyrie took a moment to test the wind, knowing that even with food already set to be devoured, a Chimera was known to attack anything it smelled. "I guess we go straight on in, then."   
"Get your weapons ready." Cloud remarked, not quite convinced about this plan. None of them were, in fact. But it was the best they had if they wanted the thing to survive--regardless of whether it gave a damn about them.   
A slow approach was in order so the creature wouldn't sense their movement right away. "Legend" had it that they did not have very good vision. But Kyrie knew "legend" also had it that they knew exactly where, when and who to attack even when their noses were blown off. Not a pleasant thought.   
A breath. A stance for all of them, weapons ready, hearts pounding, legs taunt. Vincent extended his hand and reached for that familiar feeling. Stronger than he expected, he felt the power of Lightning almost jolt past his fingers before he even called it as if waiting in him all this time to attack. He didn't have the time to mentally pull back on the energy before it erupted straight into the beast, causing a squeal and all limbs to fall limp, then stiffen and fall limp again.   
It was not a pleasant sight to watch, certainly. But it had been effective. They bolted past it and up onto the bridge--but Kyrie suddenly fell behind.   
"Fucking conscience." She cursed, turning around to go back toward the monster. Sure it could rip her apart. And it probably would. But it hadn't been like the hexadragon. The Chimera had been gnawing it's little heart out on a buck, not bothering anyone. She had to make sure it was alright.   
As she loomed over it, it tensed and extended its limbs again with a squeal from one of the heads. All of the eyes were half open and moving just a little, the lion's tongue hanging out but still wet. It just seemed dazed. _Very_ dazed, but alive. There was no scent of burned fur (a miracle, she thought), and the more seconds that stretched out her venture on the edge of death, the more the beast seemed able to move. Kyrie knew there was no more time to waste; she hoped well for the creature and bolted back to the bridge.   
Catching up to the rest of the group, she noted that they still had shocked expressions. Cloud shook his head, speaking without thinking. "That was insane."   
"I know." She admitted simply. Hey, she was a fighter, not a killer. Even if it was a monster. She continued walking onward, with or without them. But it was obvious that they would follow. She was simply eager not to be chastised for what she fully knew was a stupid move.   
At the other end of the bridge, they actually witnessed the miraculous sight; the ship was docked and looked to be in full working order. Being that it was still morning, there weren't even any officers running about to bother them. She knew all it took was her card to get on board through the crew entrance, so that's where they headed.   
The ship was fucking huge, a barge and a battleship at once. It was covered in pounded scales like a great dragon of the sea, with triple re-inforced Esthar steel. Approaching the dock, the rest of the three just followed Kyrie's lead. None of them had been around this great big steel monster before, and it was a little intimidating to note how absolutely large the ten cannons were. Kyrie, however, seemed to merely meander on by what appeared to more or less be the front of it (by default, really; it looked the same on either side from where they were) and walked quite a ways down the length of it, stopping only in front of a slightly off-color panel on the side. Reaching into her pocket, she produced proof of her affiliations and slipped the card into an invisible slot at the edge of the discolored portion. There was a beep. Then a grind and a click. After a moment of silence, there was a very loud mechanical movement of grinding gears, and the panel slid open to reveal a large elevator.   
"Pretty fancy, right?" she asked, taking her card back as it was spat out.   
"Neeeeat." Rodger agreed. "It must pay to be the president's granddaughter."   
"At times." Kyrie agreed, indicating for the four of them to go in first. "It recognizes me. It'll close after me."   
As the others piled in, she sidestepped inside just in time to avoid the panel sliding back. _They really ought to fix that stupid thing._ She complained to herself. _I hear about more incidents of clothing getting caught on this door..._   
The elevator began to surge upward at a speed that was very disorienting; especially since it only took about 3.5 seconds to reach the destination. They were let off right in front of the stairway to the deck, or had the option of walking to the left and looking around the crew. Considering the time of day, however, Kyrie thought it best to get directly to the deck and try to find the captain doing inspections up there first. They wouldn't want to wander around uninvited.   
The sight that met them when they reached surface, however, made Cloud's stomach flop all to hell. The deck was completely abandoned. Well, not _completely_. There was a little remnants of what appeared to have been a higher ranking officer smeared here and there. There was even a tattered part of uniform covering something that looked like a mutated arm in the distance. No one really wanted to know for certain.   
"Hyne... damn." Kyrie grunted softly. She should have known, really. It was too easy. Just too easy. Even with the Chimera, it had been too simple a journey. Without another word, she walked down the steps and started exploring the corridors. It only took a few moments to find a piece of skull and something that may have been a foot. Instead of bothering to look around any more (it was pretty clear what she'd find by now), she merely lead them stoically to the engine room.   
The fact that she had to use her card again to enter gave them all a little hope--that was shattered when they had to step over half of the captain as they walked in. This was bad. Just... bad. Again.   
There was little choice at the time, though. They'd have to steal the ship and try to get it to a populated area. _Anywhere_ would do, quite frankly. Just anywhere but where they were, surrounded by these atrocities.   
"There is already a set destination." Vincent announced curiously, having found the main panel. "And according to this map... they're in the middle of the ocean."   
Kyrie walked over to take a look herself. In the middle of the ocean? There sure as hell wasn't any land nearby that point, no. Had Sephiroth set random numbers? And then it hit her. "The deep sea research center."   
Cloud looked puzzled. "What would Sephiroth want with fish?"   
She thought about that for a moment. It was a good question. "It's been used as a drilling well into the crust of the earth since about five years ago..." she trailed off.   
"You don't suppose..." Vincent began, very quietly.   
Cloud took a breath. Jenova?   


"Hello, Squall." He heard through his nightmare. It was a very familiar voice from his childhood, he thought, but he couldn't place it. He was convinced it was part of the nightmare he was trying to wake up from, besides. 


	12. Chapter 12

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out.   


_**WARNING!!!** This chapter contains horrific acts of violence, rape, general torture, gore (though not too specific), and death. Not for the faint of heart, to put it lightly._   
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 12   
by Orin Drake 

No working communications devices, and no living crew. To allow the ship to roam to where Sephiroth wanted it to go or not... Kyrie shuddered to think about either option, really. What if her parents _were_ there, where they were being directed? But then, Sephiroth would want them to come after him. It seemed like a stupid decision either way, honestly. She didn't even react when Rodger walked up to her and waved a hand in front of her face. After a few more seconds of being stared at, however, the worry slid off of her mind like water off of feathers. She could _not_ allow it to take hold of her consciousness. Worry was one thing, but an agonized helpless panic was completely another. She would not be that, she would not do that. "So..." she started, but could not finish.   
"I think we're screwed either way." Cloud didn't need a vocalization of her feelings.   
Kyrie took a deep breath and crossed her arms tightly against her chest, but it was very still. Very calm, very silent. "Any idea of what kind of chance we've got if we go there?"   
"A bad one." Vincent commented quietly. Brutal honesty was necessary at this point in time.   
"I'd agree with that." Cloud admitted despite himself.   
Kyrie looked to Rodger for a moment, trying to judge what was going through his head. She bet he'd had no indication she'd be getting him into shit like _this_. Oh sure, all kinds of other, slightly less mind-blowing and life threatening shit, but not this...   
Before she even had the chance to consider what she wanted to say to him, he put on one of his most suave grins. "I'm not leaving."   
At least that made her smile. "Well, that's something."   
"Really, Kyrie... whatever you decide to do." It was Cloud's honest answer, though he seemed a little surprised it had actually come out of his mouth.   
"You've killed him before..." she pondered out loud. It was neither a question nor an answer, but it seemed important enough to state again.   
"Vincent was there, too." The blonde assured.   
Another deep breath was heard from her. She didn't want to put her friends' lives in danger. But then, they had come with her quite freely. Hell, Cloud was after Sephiroth when he just stumbled upon her. It still gave her a horrific feeling that she actually honored that "deal", though... what a godawful, gut wrenching thought, that. A blunt question, then. "Do you think we can pull it off?"   
Well, now that was _the_ question. But he didn't think they could pull it off last time; well, not at first. They were in that same stage of worry and regret right now, though. If there was hope back then... "You both have a little time to practice. It's definitely possible."   
Kyrie sat back and looked at her fingertips. What, maybe three hours to learn Heal and Ultima? But it would have to do. They couldn't waste time and effort trying to contact other ports in person. Maybe this would serve as enough of a surprise to give them the upper hand, at least for a little while. "Let's do it, then."   


"Squall..." he heard again. Same voice, closer... more real... and then his eyes shot open with a full-forced, open handed lash on the side of his face.   
Squall's heart raced; not with the pain, not really with the surprise of a strike... It was that voice. That fucking voice. The voice of years ago, of nightmares and memories hidden so deeply in the shadows they were less memories than they seemed someone else's demented thoughts you were stuck with somehow. He just wanted to shout _"No!"_ over and over until his throat was raw, until he had no more breath or voice left to shout any longer. Denial, denial was his friend--   
But there was no mistaking the hungry gaze of the predator before him. Green cat eyes, wild with hatred and torture lust. His lips parted to speak the demon's name, but he could not allow himself. If he spoke it, it would be real. The words would become flesh. Certainly this was a horrific nightmare. Granted he didn't have them often, but when he did...   
The other side of his face stung with the back of the monster's other hand. The voice, so sneering, so... ungodly, humiliating, painful... "Leonhart. I'm surprised you don't remember me."   
But he knew full well. It shone in his eyes under the hatred; the satisfaction of the fear, the pain. Squall had seen that so many times in his youth. Even after so long, he was still reduced to forcing himself to stop the shaking. It was only then he realized his arms were held above his head with expertly woven metal chains, lifting his feet just an inch above the floor. _This isn't happening, this can't be happening, Seifer **wake me up**!_   
The bastard with the greener than green eyes only grinned in victory. "You mustn't worry about your _beloved_." The word was spat out as a curse. "He's just beyond that wall, waiting his turn."   
Absolutely agonizing shudders overcame Squall's body entirely. He was first. For what? He knew what. He didn't know how, but he knew what. It was becoming more clear by the second, more obvious the thicker his fear became. The panic was too hard to control, and his body would not obey him.   
Sephiroth waited until the last possible moment, until he was absolutely certain the fear was clouding the former SeeD's expert mind. He grasped the younger man's throat tightly in his hand, feeling the pulse even through the leather and delighting in the pain he was causing. Just like old times. The very though made him chuckle darkly to himself.   
It was like that very sound shattered the barrier of panic overwhelming Squall's mind. This time he kicked out, roughly and without focus, but it caused the bastard to think twice. The cocky grin remained plastered across his face, but he released and backed up. Squall continued to regain control, trying to use his body like a pendulum.   
But, unfortunately for him, Sephiroth had planned on that part, too. On to the next step. He darted forward and stunned the brunette thoroughly with an even harder strike, one that was bordering on cracking his jaw. But he didn't want that. He wanted to hear the words of denial pour from the boy's lips.   
The hit momentarily rendered Squall utterly useless. His mind was blank for a number of seconds from the sheer force, his body completely inert. The first thought fired quickly, however; less of a thought than a primal need to defend himself. He didn't remember from what at the time, but he knew his life was in danger. The animal need to survive was short-lived; it all came back with the other man's tainted touch.   
"This is too much dignity for you, Leonhart." Sephiroth seethed. Squall fought his every action with the best of his strength but lacking words; he did not want Seifer to hear him. It was a subtle reason that Sephiroth so reveled in knowing. Something deep and hidden, torn out from within. From one of his best students, who had abandoned him. Hatefully, his slender fingers shredded at the front of his victim's pants, yanking them from his hips.   
"No." Squall growled quietly, teeth clenched with rage and tension. He kicked, crossed his legs, tried to use his knees to connect with something, anything; he did everything he could do, everything in his power, to prevent the inevitable.   
Regardless, Sephiroth assured him that it was indeed inescapable by another impressive show of pure strength. If he could not pull them off so easily, he would rip them to pieces. Either way, his goal was satisfied.   
Squall was too angry to react to the cold of the room just yet. He continued to fight valiantly even as his briefs were torn from him with a satisfied laugh, and kicked wildly as his shirt was ripped to ribbons. Not this time, not ever again. He used his entire body to fight, using the wall to push himself against as he swung out and tried to injure his tormentor any way he could.   
Sephiroth grinned widely, standing back and watching until he had the opportunity to rush forward and pin the struggling man against the wall with his body. Ah, the practice he had had with that move alone made him smile. He savagely grasped Squall's throat again, this time pressing his fingers deeply enough to constrict, to bruise and wound. "What a beautiful sight." He whispered. "You've grown up. But you still haven't surrendered." He brought his other hand along the side of the younger man's face, running it through his hair.   
Squall desperately wanted to ask about the condition of his family. But he knew better. Or maybe he didn't want to know at all. It didn't matter, he couldn't breathe let alone talk. The crushing pain in his throat was enough to force a weakness over him.   
Sephiroth chuckled. "Still silent, are we? Stoic, little hero?" Satisfied that the man underneath him was frail enough from oxygen loss, he released hold of him completely and backed away. Instead of mercy, he granted his prey a devious smile as he pulled his gloves off and placed them in an inside pocket in his long coat. "I want to feel this."   
Squall barely heard him over his own gasping, the sound of his heartbeat and the blood rushing in his ears. But he knew there was danger ahead.   
The silver haired man rested against his body again, running his bare hands lightly over his prisoner's hips. It was only a whisper, as soft and gentle as the other man could ever get. "Do you like to bite, like your daughter?"   
Squall's stormy eyes widened. "Y-you didn't..."   
His velvet laugh coursed through every vein of his victim's existence. "It's a nice little family affair, isn't it?"   
The brunette's eyes were wet from frustration, but there were no tears in there. Just a vibrant rage. He kept his voice down, but it still found power enough to echo in the walls. "You have no connection to her..."   
"She's coming for you, you know." Sephiroth interrupted casually. "For both of you."   
Again there was a devastating pain through his chest. He growled, halfway defeated before he began, "You're a sick lunatic."   
Sephiroth's laugh was even more quiet, and dangerously delicate. "You didn't used to think so..." he taunted, forcefully separating the globes of flesh that tensed desperately to protect the prize he sought from his torment. "But, you were young, then. Stupid. And tighter." He leaned forward, lips against the brunette's ear. "One more for old times sake, hmm? Maybe you'd like me to show you what I did to your daughter... but then, I'd have to rip you another hole."   
Squall closed his eyes tightly. It was his only possible reaction. Neither he nor Seifer had ever told Kyrie about Sephiroth. Neither of them had so much as acknowledged his existence after the two finally got away from him entirely. Maybe they'd just hoped forgetting that period of time would erase it. And indeed it was erased for quite a while; until the guardian forces were released. Memories were slowly recovered. As were nightmares. But even then, they never talked about it. The thought, the very idea that he could have gotten his filthy hands on her...   
But his thoughts were shattered instantly with white hot pain thrusting, expanding, jarring his spine and crushing all other things. Just _pain_, just rawness and brutal agony came through all senses as though they had all been wired incorrectly. _Damage_, nothing but _damage_, like a computer blinking nothing but a flashing prompt; there was simply nothing else there. He couldn't help the bitter groan that escaped. He didn't even know it had happened.   
Sephiroth grinned eagerly, getting a better grasp on his victim's hips before driving into him again. Beautiful. His pain was absolutely beautiful; and familiar, like the smell of bread baking. He _felt_ the quiver; the aching, seeking thought process as though it were rolling through Squall's body rather than his mind. His victim getting away was not an option, and he loved it. Glorious those fully desperate attempts at suppressing painful noises, at trying to wrench free of the torment which no doubt must be as familiar to prey as it was to predator.   
"You left me, Squall." He panted, thrusting even harder, even faster thanks to the blood. "You and your whore abandoned me. After all I did for both of you. After all I offered you."   
"M-maniac..." his prisoner--his _victim_-- responded painfully.   
"You convinced _him_ to leave, too." Sephiroth continued, closing his eyes with the impending eruption. "And you, and your daughter... will be your sacrifice..." He purred loudly with his release, grasping Squall's hips with devastating strength.   
Squall couldn't hold back the shriek as he felt something inside of him shatter. What bone it had been, he wasn't sure of, and even the location he could not have pinpointed. Everything hurt so much that it didn't really matter anyway. Something was broken, a bone had splintered somewhere between his knees and his chest. That's all he wanted to know right then and there.   


"Shit." Kyrie commented under her breath. Well, Ultima had done a little something, anyway; it had melted one of the ship's deck panels. Not quite what she was going after, or aiming for. But it was... something.   
"No, that was good." Cloud attempted reassurance. "Just, uh... inaccurate."   
"Thank you." She responded with deeply meant sarcasm.   
"Maybe it would help to bring your fingers together just as the energy passes through them." The blonde continued to be helpful. He couldn't allow her to lose faith in herself; she really was good. And learning astoundingly quickly. But he knew it was frustrating.   
Rodger had his own problems, quickly slapping at a small smoking spot on his jeans. Even Vincent found it hard to maintain a straight face, but he was utterly successful.   
At the attempt at trying to strike a nice balance between practicing and not draining them of energy, Cloud had gone into the galley and broken into the pantry. Various food wrappers, bottles of water, dried and canned things, and some bread littered the area around them. Kyrie had suggested that Materia made for the perfect weight loss plan. But obviously they would have no food in battle, so Cloud suggested the building of stamina as well. At which the two "students" giggled like third graders, of course.   


Seifer sure as hell heard _that_ through the thick walls. For several minutes, he'd been straining his ears to figure out whether or not people were talking, or if he was just imagining it. But that shriek made it obvious that he was not in a very friendly place. More so obvious than the shackles, even.   
And then a moment later his stomach tightened and dropped. A scream. A gut wrenching, absolutely thoughtless scream. And another. And _another_. Broken words and shattering sobs; and screaming. And a helpless feeling that he knew exactly who those screams belonged to.   


The demon kneeled in front of the other man, unchained but slumped uselessly against the wall, and whispered gruffly, "I always told you, Leonhart. If you ever looked at me like that again, I'd tear your eyes out. One tonight. One... for later."   
Squall could not respond. He'd heard the words, but they came through one at a time with the pulsating pain through his face and head. Reality hadn't struck him. The fact he'd just had an eye _taken_ from him didn't hit him. He just could not find the means or energy with which to react at all. Distantly, he felt blood trickle, but his own mortality didn't occur to his pain tinted world.   
"And now if you will excuse me, Leonhart..." Sephiroth stood and adjusted his reborn erection with a satisfied smirk, "I need to take care of this."   


Silence, then. A very eerie, somehow terrifying silence. Seifer couldn't even swallow. The possibilities were endless, but all of them were just... horrible.   
And then the door to the far right of him opened. Regardless of how godawful his thoughts were, the screams had been, he did his best to stand tall. His shackles were not the sort that kept him hanging, but kept him rather close to the wall with short lengths. He made a conscious decision not to look as though he were straining against them. Just the opposite; that smirking cockiness he had constantly displayed as a teenager began to emerge as he watched the door.   
But that was not to last. Fear flooded every feature of his face and every inch of his body. "Sephiroth?"   
The silver haired bastard grinned. "You've grown into a man, Mr. Almasy. How nice."   
"Fuck..." he murmured, fully grasping the situation. The sounds of the previous moment finally fell into place. "Fuck--no. What did you--?!"   
"Hush, Almasy." Sephiroth hissed with a familiar ferocity. A purr with the promise of the powers of Hell. He didn't bother shutting the door behind him. There was no escape. The sounds of this would flow easily into Squall's open chamber.   


"Just a few more moments and we should see it." Vincent announced from the top of the stairs, having rechecked the panels on the bridge.   
A nervous flutter was Kyrie's first response. It wasn't so much unexpected as it was... bothersome. She didn't _want_ to get nervous. She sure as hell didn't want to be, and certainly not _appear_, nervous. She made eye contact with Rodger, searching for a comforting gesture of any kind.   
He looked back at her, taking a deep breath and letting it out through his teeth. He didn't know what to expect, at all. But he sure as hell knew that this would not be pleasant, and it wouldn't be easy. Maybe her parents were held by the freak that had done _that_ to her back--which was still quite visible, by the way. It pissed him off to know anyone had gotten away with that. He knew by now that she fought back, but... that knowledge really didn't help.   
"Home stretch." Cloud sighed. "It's just best not to think about it."   
"Mmm." Kyrie agreed distantly. Easier said than done. But he knew what he was doing... more or less. This was going to be... interesting. There was a very good possibility that they were going to die and the planet was going to get destroyed by the man that thought he was god. Lovely. It was up to the four of them, it appeared. Not quite the heroic situation she pictured would ever be happening to her in her lifetime.   
"It doesn't get easier." Vincent remarked to himself.   
Kyrie swallowed. "I can't imagine it ever could."   
Rodger saw his opportunity. He stepped closer and put his arm around her. This could be it. This could be _the end_. But he found, with very little surprise, that he didn't mind. He'd be with her. How weird. If they survived, he wondered if he would ever get used to that. If they didn't, well... it sure sucked that they never got to have sex.   
Then she saw it. The highest tower with made up part of the drilling facility, just up ahead on the glittering water. Instead of feeling feeble and afraid as she was absolutely sure she would, she just felt... cold. Not a bad sort of cold, and not so much a distant cold. Just... "this is what I have to do" cold.   


Pain. Just pain. Godless, thoughtless, wordless... A tone of pain. A surge. A sound. A color, maybe. He was losing blood. He'd be cold and half crazy soon. But even that thought was hard to grasp at consciously. Until he heard a shriek from behind the wall. His head weakly shot up, his remaining eye watering so much he could barely see anything. He just followed that harsh sound. That... almost familiar sound. His blood ran cold, even colder than the few moments of sheer terror before. Seifer. He was in there with Seifer.   
"Seifer!" Squall cried hoarsely, finding only the strength to slide over to the wall, little by little. "_Seifer!_"   
"Squall!" his voice ripped along with his fragile insides from the other side. "You have to protect her!" He paused to scream again, feeling life and pain flash in and out of his existence.   
"Yes!" Sephiroth added in a lustful gasp. "Protect your sacrifice from me, Leonhart!"   
Another agonized scream tore from Seifer's throat. He wasn't dying fast enough. Not even close to fast enough.   
Sephiroth continued his torment, harder with each thrust. "You belong, in a pile, of your own, blood, and shit, Almasy."   
"Fuck you, Sephiroth!" Squall spat helplessly, his voice breaking across the first word like he was a young teenager again. The pain both mental and physical now; overwhelming.   
"You've _had_ your turn, Leonhart!" Then, suddenly, there was a snap. A wet, awful snap. A gurgle that could only be Seifer's accompanied it, and the sound remained in the air for just a few seconds before it silenced completely. A large, dead thump hit the ground, and only Sephiroth's footsteps left the room.   
It very well could have been his imagination. It could have been panic or the remainder of the shock and pain coming back to claim him again. But he swore he could smell the devastation in that blood. He'd smelled blood a million times, years ago. Hell, he'd been bathed in it from time to time; blood from all sorts of monsters and men alike. It was never like that, though. There was never that much... desperation.   


The landing of the ship didn't go particularly well. But there was no dock left (it had crumbled and fallen completely apart due to the salt water and lack of any sort of maintenance) , and they sure as hell weren't swimming. Vincent maintained enough control of the "new-fangled" board to ram the ship into the edge of the island so they could get out the same door they came in.   
"Great driving, Slick." Kyrie joked, picking herself from off of the floor.   
"And that's why I never left you in charge of anything..." Cloud added.   
The pale man appeared to take the comment in stride, dusting himself off and walking away to the elevator. No words, no comments, no invitation.   
_That guy could be a comedian._ Kyrie kept to herself.   
With the aid of her card once more, the four of them rode the elevator down. As the panel opened, they began to look for signs of trouble. It was really hard to tell at this point, however; the seven towers for drilling, and the main building between them, were flecked in red and green from rust and long growing vines.   
"This place never keeps anything going." Kyrie commented. Once it had been a famous deep sea research center, then fell into disrepair. Then it was a deep earth research and mining facility, once again let go and forgotten. Now it was quite possibly the home a psycho of which she had unfinished business with. Well, she was determined that would be even shorter lived than the other uses.   
It was a bit of a jump to land still, as the door was quite high up on the ship. But Vincent had tried to adjust for that, so the leap was barely anything. They stayed there on the sand and stared at the nightmarish structure for quite some time, trying to decide exactly _what_ to do. They'd had the fortune of landing right at one of the three main entrances, so there was always that option. Who would think that they'd use one of those?   
Kyrie cringed a little, a tiny mental screech having halted her thoughts. It was a burst of light, a sudden pain behind her right eye. Very weird. She'd never experienced anything like that before. But worse, that pain was followed by a clear and exceptional dread. A knowing dread. She rubbed her right temple and tried to ignore it, but there _was_ no dismissing that feeling. Something... had happened in there.   
Rodger had looked over more or less when the pain had come to her. He didn't know why he felt something may have happened inside the building, but... "They're in there, aren't they?"   
"I think so." Was all she could say.   
Cloud nodded slowly. The dread had spread from her like a great wave of energy, like her Materia were already feeling her emotion. If her parents were in there, with Sephiroth... the result would not be good. "Alright. Let's go."   
"Is it wise to storm the front?" Vincent asked even as they'd begun walking.   
Cloud delicately removed the Buster Sword from his back and regarded the answer. "Well... frankly, he might be busy. Enough not to notice at first."   
_Ugh._ Kyrie felt her stomach tighten. But she reminded herself thoroughly that now was not the time, to let that cold encase her. She needed to be strong. They were a team of four, not three and her. Pushing back the emotion until she could almost sense it being _absorbed_ by the Materia somehow, she didn't say a word. She didn't think she could. And so, in silence, they merely walked in through the closest main entrance.   
The three "security doors" were so damaged that they swung open with ease. And without the need for a card. From the look of things, _someone_ had sure as hell come in the same way they were heading, with a vengeance. Panels were torn open and wires hung limply, all security systems deactivated. Great for them. But they had no way to trace anyone or anything. Not that it mattered, since her personal computer was a piece of worthless shit anyway.   
Past the unmanned front desk, they walked out into the first tower's observation platform. Nothing seemed out of place there, or even in motion at all. A clearly visible layer of dust covered most everything, making it a touch difficult to breathe.   
"Alright." Cloud announced, trying to take control of the situation. "Now... what should we do?"   
It was odd to hear Mr. Soldier ask that question. It inspired pure silence from everyone, actually. But the edges of Kyrie's nerves were too frayed to wait for things to work themselves out. "I've got to find them." It was not a desperate tone, but it was an important one.   
Vincent forcibly stopped himself from making any suggestions. It may not be smart to split up at this point in time, but... he wasn't sure what it was. Something about her very mood suggested that she'd be able to handle herself. A momentary glance at Cloud only mirrored his thoughts, so he nodded curtly. "Alright. You and Rodger should try to find them."   
She was a little surprised at that. She was certain they'd have both disagreed right away. But, no complaints. "And you will..?"   
"We will..." Cloud answered with a slight uncertainty, "We'll try to find out what Sephiroth is doing here in the first place."   
"And if we run into him?" Rodger couldn't allow himself to remain quiet about that one tiny little detail.   
"Run." The blonde suggested dead seriously. "And find us in one of the towers." He paused for a moment as though tasting the air around him. "But I... don't think you'll have to worry about that. He's not as concerned with you two as he is with us."   
Kyrie bit her tongue gently. She didn't want to use them for _bait_--but one look at either of them and they were completely at ease with the situation. Well, as much as they could be. Another word now and things might get weird. So, she looked at Rodger, and together they drew their weapons and went back into the main hallway to get to the central building.   
"This isn't good." Vincent stated quietly.   
"Yeah, I know." Cloud agreed with a sigh. "I have a... feeling that they won't take long, though."   


"Map!" Kyrie skidded to a halt mid-corridor. There was an unlit glass panel to their side somewhat like a mall directory, mapping out the main building only.   
Rodger tripped and nearly fell after her, catching her shoulder for support. Somehow that came off as a little more subtle than he thought it would, and she merely spun him around so that she could rest one arm around his waist as they looked.   
"Alright, we're here." Kyrie pointed, getting her bearings. "And there's a brig right below us."   
Rodger noticed the dread tone in her voice immediately. Not that she should have been excited to have found out where her parents might well be dead, but... well, he couldn't blame her. He just put his arm around her and gave her a quick but well meant squeeze, and off they went to find the nearest set of stairs.   


The third tower Vincent and Cloud had checked, and still no activity. Not a sound. Not even a rodent living among the rusted machinery. Worst of all, not a sign of Sephiroth. Maybe they'd made the wrong decision about where to go with the ship. Maybe he had planned some area at random that just happened to coincide with this abandoned place. While that didn't seem to fit him, there was a very good chance he'd changed his behavior after this long. Maybe he was--   
"So you found me after all, you useless fuck." Echoed off the walls.   
Cloud stopped cold. Vincent cringed at the memories that voice brought back to him. It was unmistakable. After all this time, all these years, they recognized it instantly, the sour bile of the tone biting straight through their flesh.   
The voice continued, coming from everywhere at once. "I shouldn't have trusted that girl."   
Cloud swallowed. "Little late for should-a's."   


Rodger blasted through the door with one clean shot of his rifle. "Shit."   
Kyrie took a moment to inspect the iron door that was now laying almost off its hinges. "That Fire is good stuff."   
"Hell yeah." He agreed, looking from side to side. No sign of a psycho. Or a human being at all. It seemed very much abandoned. But there was something too peculiar about this area. If it had been sealed off for so long, then why wasn't the air stale?   
The further they walked down the hall of dust covered, sealed doors, the more Kyrie's heart raced. In her mind's eye, she could see it around the next bend; two unlocked doors. One was open, one was halfway shut. She needed to get to the open door. It was crazy to think that there was a chance, completely insane to...   
"What?" Rodger whispered, noticing Kyrie had stopped in her tracks with wide eyes.   
Two doors were open down that corridor. Just as she'd been imagining. One open, one half closed. Could the Materia be unlocking some second generation sorceress powers or something? Now was not the time to think about that. "I'll take the open door. You take the other."   
He swallowed. "Are you sure?"   
"Yeah." She whispered. "There's no... no danger here. Not now."   
The breath caught in his throat for a moment, but he believed her. He trusted her. Besides, what else did he have to do? Hang out and wait for her? He nodded and walked by the open door without looking inside. He couldn't. He didn't want to, and he didn't think it wise.   
Kyrie herself took a stilling moment to close her eyes and allow herself a little extra oxygen; not hyperventilating, as that would cause nothing but disaster, but taking deep and slow breaths. One hand on her gunblade in case, she strode forward.   
The smell was unbearable. It was nothing in particular--a mix of nothings in particular. Just a smell of unholy hell and desperation. And then a very slight movement in the corner.   
Oh, Hyne, it was Squall. He looked... he looked further than dead. What had once been a stormy blue eye was now crusted over with reddish-brown gore. She almost couldn't look; not for the gore itself, but because it was her dad. It was _Squall Leonhart_ laying there, breathing in ragged gasps, covered in cold, crusting blood.   
"Shit... Dad?" she whispered quietly, kneeling in front of him. "Dad?" she tried again, louder.   
His remaining eye rested on her, taking a moment to register the vision through the pain. His lips were so dry, so... cold looking. His whole face looked drained of more than blood. "Ky..."   
Alright, one down. Not in top form, but there none the less. "Where's Seifer?"   
"He's dead, Ky." He whispered, his remaining eye miles away.   
She didn't respond. At all. Seifer was dead. That was... pretty damn painful, actually. She just cradled Squall's nearly lifeless body in her arms and stared into space. Sephiroth had done it. She knew that. Just as she knew that every wound inflicted was Sephiroth's slow, deliberate doing. Who else would it have been?   
"Get out, Kyrie." He ordered quietly.   
"Then you're coming." She responded calmly.   
Too calmly. He knew that calm. "Now. Get out."   
"He'll just come after me." It was true. She knew it. He hadn't made a deal with her for no reason. He hadn't kept her "safe" after he'd kidnapped her in the first place for no reason. And since he knew who her parents were, who knew what else the psycho had in mind for her...   
Dammit. Damn his daughter. Regardless of how distant a father he had been, she'd stay by his side no matter what. Should the world fall down... which, he supposed, it was. And this time there was nothing he could do. Too weak to push her away and too tired to argue, he moaned quietly. Everything hurt. _Everything_. Every single damned muscle throbbed. But a single thought suddenly invaded his consciousness that burned far worse. "Did he... did he touch you?"   
She knew what he meant. The words he'd used made her cringe, only having an indication of what had occurred before she'd gotten there... "No." She assured lightly. "No, Dad."   
He knew as well as Vincent did; Sephiroth _marked his prey_. If he hadn't gotten to her yet, he would. But in that sliver of a moment where he had full consciousness, before the pain covered him again like a warm blanket to lull him away, he saw her eyes. Cold though they were, he of all people could see underneath the ice. She was determined. Murder in mind, but the skill and patience to pull it off. She could do it. He believed in her. He couldn't tell her, couldn't voice it, but he put a shaking hand on her shoulder and nodded tiredly.   
She knew no want, no _need_, for comfort for him stronger than at that moment. But she understood Heal would have no bearing on his condition. She'd need Cloud's Restore materia. And that meant trying to get him out of here. They could do it, she and Rodger. So she waited. She knew that it wouldn't take long. Seifer was dead. There was nothing left to hold on to.   
  


Rodger cringed at the sight of Seifer's body. There was no way a Phoenix Tail would do any good, as if he'd thought to bring one with him anyway. The body was too cold, and the blood loss was too great. Even if he could have, he didn't think he would. That would require extensive healing that not even medicine and Materia could accomplish quickly enough to take away the pain. The fact remained, though, that it was too late. He shook his head and walked into the door Kyrie had disappeared into.   
His stomach rolled. He saw her trying to lift Squall with one arm slung over her shoulder. It was less Squall that it was a bloody shell of him, really. The sight was... sickening. Somehow he found the strength to keep his stomach in check and walk over to help, however.   
Kyrie gladly accepted it, very gently letting Rodger take over. "I have to go see. For myself."   
"Ky, really... you shouldn't..." he tried to convince her in a voice too soft for Squall to hear.   
"I have to." She whispered back. "I just... I have to, Rodger. I'll be right back."   
He didn't like it, but he understood, he supposed. He nodded halfheartedly and shouldered Squall, helping him out into the hallway.   
She didn't bother taking a moment to still herself before she stepped into the other room. Distantly she knew it wouldn't have helped. Nothing could have helped that moment. Seeing the body, a startling nausea overcame her. The gore itself was nothing. Yes, there was blood. Yes, his neck was at a disturbingly unnatural angle. But... she shivered, another wave of nausea almost knocking her off her feet, as she imagined what he may have gone through before he finally died.   
It may well have been worse for her than finding Squall. That, too, made her stomach quiver to think about now that she was alone. But at least her dad knew she'd come for him. Seifer... she closed her eyes, holding back an outburst. He may have died hopeless. Alone. She... did not value that thought.   
Opening her eyes again, she took a steadying breath. She couldn't let the emotion overtake her now. She'd learned her lesson; now she must ease into the storm. When she came out of it again, then she could mourn. Now it was time to focus all her attention, emotion, strength. She needed to get those remaining out to safety. And fucking _kill_ that asshole. She could not forget that part.   
Crouching before the corpse, she gingerly reached her hands around to the back of its neck, carefully trying to avoid making contact with the flesh as she unlatched his collar. As she drew her hands back, she hesitated. Maybe it was sick fascination. Maybe it was to stroke her anger. She simply had to touch him, just once more. Cold, stiff skin met her fingertips for an almost unbearable instant. She could not allow the emotions to flood her, not now. Feeling as cold as the body itself, she stood up and placed the collar around her right thigh, stopping only to stare at it blankly. _Detach!_ she reminded herself. _Just for now._ Now they needed to break into the locker room and get some clothes for Squall, first.   


"One more tower." Cloud reminded himself out loud. Things weren't looking good. After the initial tease Sephiroth had offered them, the voice had gone completely quiet. He didn't even so much as bother to try and kill them. _That_ was what the nervousness was really eating at.   
Vincent hadn't needed his friend's well meant reminder. It was busy digging into the back of his mind already. Maybe their fears were not warranted. But even then, there would be more fear. Anything having to do with Sephiroth truly earned a response of fear.   
"Cloud!" they heard from around the corner. Turning to look, at least one of their fears was completely realized. The blonde almost didn't recognize Squall with the gore, being pulled steadily along by his daughter and Rodger. It was a rather unbelievable sight to see the "great hero of the world"... well, like this.   
By then, Squall was just completely out of it. The loss of blood mixed with the horrors he'd been through and could only imagine had taken advantage of him. His eyes were half open but sightless, and he flopped like a rag doll.   
Vincent moved to help Kyrie with her share of the weight as she inquired, "Is there anything you can do?"   
Cloud swallowed before answering. The band on her thigh. It was Seifer's, he remembered. It took a single second of eye contact to get the gist of the situation, so he dropped it. "I can only do so much..." He admitted quietly. "I can help, but... I can't really _heal_ him..."   
She nodded, almost invisibly. Anything, something, was better than nothing at all. An attempt, that's all it would take.   
"Okay." Cloud agreed. "Just, uh... leave him, on the floor. I'll see what I can do."   
Between the three of them, they set him on the ground rather gently, letting him lay there since he couldn't exactly sit upright. What a godawful sight it was. Most especially for Kyrie. She'd never seen him anything close to this. She certainly never cared to.   
It was nearly hopeless, the blonde realized. He could help, certainly, but... not much. The materia wasn't strong enough, and he couldn't let all of his energy get expended on this. But any help he could offer, he would give. Delicately placing his hand in the center of Squall's chest, he let the materia do its job.   
No response at first. Kyrie, Rodger and Vincent just stared, waiting, watching intently. And then there was a little glow, more yellow than green. It moved over Squall's flesh like a shadow, covering the wounds in a bright green. Kyrie remembered what it had been like for her hand; but she saw no such thing for her dad. Restore hadn't the power of energy to seal anything all the way, but it did its work to stop the bleeding. The rest would simply have to be up to Squall. Try as he might, Cloud just could not get any more energy to flow, so he released his hold.   
"Wait..." Kyrie suggested gently. It was like seeing the open doors before she really _saw_ them, and knowing there was impending danger inside. She just... felt like there was something she could do. _What_, she sure as hell didn't know. It was like a tiny picture in her mind that wouldn't focus, so she stepped forward and did as it instructed; holding her right palm upward, she crossed it with her downward left one and closed her eyes.   
Everyone's jaw dropped. There was a surging, tingling ball of energy rolling between her hands. It was tiny and dull at first, but soon grew larger, the glow got stronger, the colors beginning to surge and flow in circles. As the ball stopped growing but continued to strengthen in color, there was a sound like pure electricity was roaming from it.   
_Raw energy._ Cloud recognized it. He'd only seen this done once before; and not to heal a man. But hell, what was the point of not taking this chance? What's the worst that would happen to them? Besides death and severe burns, anyway. He closed his eyes again, trying to mentally form his Restore materia into almost a cup shape; a receiver. Placing one hand over Squall's chest, he thrust the other quickly between Kyrie's palms.   
**_ZING_**; it was a thought, a sound, a feeling, and a reality. There wasn't even pain--at this point. Just something akin to a popping sound, and Cloud suddenly found himself face down beside Squall.   
"Oh my disastrous bitch _Hyne_, that fucking hurt." Kyrie panted.   
Cloud's fingers began to tingle as all of his limbs came back to life. He sat up by himself and gazed at the president of Esthar's son for a moment to see their handiwork. Well, it hadn't healed him completely, that was for certain. But the more "minor" wounds were healed over. No doubt whatever bone had shattered was also halfway to knitting. Some of the internal damage was probably still there, but that extra _zap_ had been enough. He wasn't sure how his Materia were going to come out of this, but he doubted they could be any worse off than they were before.   
"Are you... alright?" Rodger could think of few other ways to word that question.   
Kyrie shook out her arms for a moment before responding. There were just the slightest bit tingly. As was every other part of her body. "I... hope so." She looked down at Squall, his single eye fluttering softly. "I've never done... anything like that before." She licked her dry lips and waited for any sign of _anything_ from him. "And I'm not sure I can do it again."   
"Well, it was... damn good for a first time." Cloud commented, checking for a pulse. It was racing, but there was a relatively steady one there.   
"Ky..." Squall whispered even before his eyes focussed. He'd heard her before, he just hadn't been able to respond.   
She took a sharp breath and kneeled, running her fingers over the back of his hand. "Dad?"   
He took several deep breaths before opening his eye again, taking a look around him. Well, he recognized Rodger, alright, but--was that Cloud? From Esthar? Was he delusional? But now was not the time for these questions. His last memory was--oh. Seifer. His eyes focused on the band around her thigh and he had to fight back tears. His voice was more harsh than his daughter had ever imagined it could be. "Sephiroth."   
"That's why we're here." Cloud responded, helping him to sit up.   
Squall only nodded. Like Rodger, he had a good indication of things, but... really knowing all the details would just slow them down. They'd have time later. He wiped some of the gore off of his cheek with the back of his hand, but didn't want anything to do with the empty socket. The thought, frankly, grossed him out. But more, it was just... disturbing. He didn't want to touch it, or think about it. One eye. That would make fighting a lot harder. But if Fujin could do it...   
Vincent wordlessly offered the band of fabric that had been his headband. It wasn't much, but it was a beginning.   
Funny thing, that. So Kyrie thought anyway. Vincent was quite the gentleman to her family.   
Cloud tried to fill him in. "We think he has something to do with drilling into the earth. But none of these drills have been used in years. This one is the last room we have to check, so... well, this might answer our questions. You should stay here and--"   
"I'm coming." Squall stopped him, tying the red band securely.   
"Dad..." Kyrie began softly. She would _not_ see him hurt. This was bad enough. This was beyond merely bad.   
"Kyrie." That's all it took. One word and a look. She hadn't realized just how much she'd really inherited from him. Battle ready coldness. And that stern, shushing look.   
She swallowed. "Okay, but stay back from the fighting, huh?" It was a dumb suggestion, but one he'd be forced to follow. He didn't have his gunblade with him. "Can you walk, do you think?"   
He tested his legs a little. "I can try."   
Cloud and Vincent got him to stand, Rodger and Kyrie walked alongside until he got his bearings. Without another word, they walked down the short corridor into the seventh and final drilling station. Once again, there was no movement, no motion at all. But there was the unmistakable scent of oil and warm metal. The gears here were not dusty, but shimmering. Their hearts fell.   
"Damn." Rodger breathed for all of them.   
As if the word itself was a magical phrase, the platform they were standing on shook. With a fast mechanical click, they were headed to the floor level.   
No words. Just a relatively terrified silence. There was no Sephiroth in sight, but like an ocean breeze, they could all sense him here, very close. Every fear realized. Every ounce of strength undoubtedly about to be tested.   
"Oh how this sucks." Kyrie whispered as the platform came to a halt, melding perfectly with the metal floor.   
Another mechanical click sounded, this one more grinding. The lights dimmed for a few seconds, and then a heavy, shrieking moan came from the gears that drove the drill. In the center of the huge room in which they stood was that giant drill's blade in the center of a wide pit, digging deep into the earth.   
Another, almost inaudible click (due to the drill going full speed), sounded across the vast space. They looked up to see Sephiroth, fully dressed and looking ever so dapper, riding the other lift to ground level. He smirked without comment as he eyed the group, savoring every moment. They all had different reasons, but their reactions were much the same. 


	13. Chapter 13

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out.   


_**WARNING!!!** This chapter contains not so terribly graphic descriptions of violence and death._

The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 13   
by Orin Drake 

As his lift clicked into place on the metal floor, Sephiroth nodded almost politely to all of them. Not a word passed his lips; this was far too enjoyable for him. Squall was still weak and very much the product of his torture. Kyrie was only now discovering power that she had no idea how to use or even if she could call upon again. Rodger was completely untested in battle and ever so slightly mad with rage over what he'd done to his precious girlfriend. Vincent, of course, always had his reason to hate and distrust him; now was no different. And Cloud Strife... that little bastard.   
The focus of their gazes walked slowly toward them, every click of his boot against the metal floor dancing on their nerves. No weapons drawn, not yet. They'd have to time this just right amongst themselves, when the time was perfectly right. Until then... well, they'd just have to listen.   
Sephiroth stopped only paces away from them, daring them to attack when he was obviously so ready. His eyes went from a satisfaction at seeing Squall's anger to the new piece of Kyrie's outfit. That crazy bastard looked all too proud when he noticed at Seifer's collar securely around her thigh. "Well, now." He began patiently. "I believe I know almost all of you."   
Rodger _wanted_ to cower as those unnatural eyes fell upon him. They had a physical force to them, something that completely inspired fear. But he did not cower, or flinch. He was just too pissed.   
"What do you _want_?" Cloud's voice was easy going, cool and collected. Speaking in rage did nothing but further Sephiroth's advantage, he knew that. He _hated_ that.   
"Mother is down there." Sephiroth stated in an almost sane manner, indicating the drill with a minute movement of his hand. "She's waiting to be discovered... But she calls for me. And she's down there somewhere."   
_Jenova_. It moved like a shared thought across them. Across all but Rodger. He didn't need any convincing that this guy was a dangerous nut case, however.   
And then Sephiroth made lasting eye contact with Squall. One left. One stormy, rage filled eye left behind that ice coldness. Most of that rage was his doing, he knew that. It made him... happy. "And how are you faring, Leonhart?"   
He didn't answer. But then, he didn't really need to. It wasn't just that one eye throwing daggers at the form, but his daughter's red ones that were creating the storm this time.   
"Like father, like daughter." The psycho growled almost seductively.   
This was it; this was the time, the place, and Squall knew that it was he, himself, that was going to have to get them rolling. "Fucking _liar_!" he shouted, darting forward too quickly for anyone to stop him.   
For anyone who didn't know him, it looked like he was sincerely taken by his rage. But Kyrie knew it had been a cool, calculated move. Damn her father. She didn't want him to make this sacrifice. "Get to the computer." She grunted lowly between her teeth to Vincent and Rodger, indicating the emergency ladder on the wall just between the two lifts with a glance.   
It took no more than that to get them to haul ass. Cloud was certainly glad she'd taken such initiate; he'd been a little numb at the time. Watching Squall throw himself at Sephiroth, nothing to fight with but his bare hands, was quite a sight. In the same way a horrific train wreck is quite a sight.   
Kyrie wasted no time. She pulled her precious weapon from her hip, aimed, and fired. It was only Sephiroth's shoulder--_Goddamn it why is it always the fucking shoulder?!_ Kyrie thought desperately--but it was effective enough to distract him. At least her dad got a great shot as his jaw. Damn, when that fist connected--   
Now wasn't the time. She moved forward, taking complete advantage of Squall's strength and Sephiroth's sudden weakness. They'd try to drive him over the edge of the pit together, into the earth itself. There was a good chance he'd get ground up by the machinery before he hit bottom. Then they'd have to scrape him up. But that would be satisfying.   
Cloud saw what they were after, and backed up to stay behind, just for the moment. He could do no better than the two of them were already. Besides, father and daughter had better communication that he would have been able to have with either. He'd wait, sword ready, in case.   
Another fist went flying, but Sephiroth caught this one. He growled, squeezing the fingers, then grunted in pain; Kyrie had hit him square in the upper thigh. _Better, much better._   
Those green, nightmarish cat eyes focussed on _her_. He continued to squeeze Squall's fist, inciting a weakened cry. Too fast, too quickly he turned on the edge of the pit--   
Kyrie darted like a wild cat. She was only a few paces away to begin with, but this was happening too fast. Too much, unbelievable, could not be happening--she skidded just at the edge of the floor, right at the end of the metal grating before the mouth of the earth.   
She didn't move. She didn't so much as flinch. Squall's life had just been fully taken from her, right in front of her face. No "I love you", no "good-bye". Distantly, she heard his body being torn up by the machinery below. There was no scream, though. He was already quite dead by the time he'd fallen. That fucking silver haired lunatic had snapped his neck all too mercifully before he'd spun him in like they'd been locked in dance in that millisecond before the fall.   
Sephiroth took advantage of her shock this time, throwing her down at the edge so she partially hung over. He heavily placed his right foot on her shoulder, forcing her body flat and her face well over the edge of the drop. She could see tiny bits of Squall's insides and splatters of blood being ground with bits of stone and oil. That's all his body was now. Lubricant for a machine. Vincent's band had wrapped itself around a smaller gear only to be torn half a turn later. And still she did not openly react.   
The silver tressed man laughed softly. "You're colder than he was."   
Kyrie tried with all of her strength to disengage his boot, having made yet another painful mark in her flesh. It proved completely useless, however. She was no match for him. He only pressed down harder, causing Griever to slice a tiny line in her chest. She grunted, but said nothing. She was too afraid; speaking may send her into a tearful anger. A feminine rage. She had no use for that kind of rage, not now. At the moment, her life meant nothing more than an end to Sephiroth. She'd use it however she had to to see that through.   
Sephiroth grinned and pressed harder, feeling the tension as she tried to keep him from breaking her shoulder, but allowing her chest room to expand for the obviously important task of breathing, as well. A sudden jolt from the entire building attracted the attention of both parties, however.   
A screeching siren began blaring every other second, the lights dimming then flashing brightly, repeating the pattern over and over. After a few seconds of this, the building began to shake harder, tremoring with some horrific weight and the surge of more gears powering up.   
"What the hell is going on?" Sephiroth shouted over the noise, momentarily abandoning his pursuit of crushing Kyrie in favor of trying to figure out recent events.   
She was quite glad to be able to lift when she was. A floor slid in place over the pit of machinery, made of several dozen thick metal fins that had expanded from special underground fittings on the outside walls. She could easily have been decapitated and joined Squall's body as biological lubrication. _But you're not getting off that easy, asshole..._   
Cloud had laid in wait with blind faith for long enough. When Sephiroth turned around, he attacked with his beloved Buster Sword. He yanked the blade outward and downward, leaving a giant rip right through the man's body. Then he backed away, waiting for him to drop to his knees so he could finish him off.   
But it was no doubt not that easy. Sephiroth was not dying. He wasn't even in pain. In fact, he was chuckling to himself. With every passing heartbeat, the blood that had been squirting from him lessened until there was no wound at all to spill from.   
Vincent watched from above with a chill as the flesh sealed itself perfectly in a matter of seconds, giving no indication that a sword had been there save the ripped shirt. He didn't bother waiting for more of a reaction from anyone; he drew his rifle and shot without help from Lightning from the distance.   
That appeared a little more effective, sending Sephiroth stumbling backward with his hands covering his face. But that was only an act, so it appeared. He suddenly pulled his hands away, showing his once handsome face torn to ribbons and soaked with blood. "You can't kill me!" he shouted triumphantly. "You can never even harm me! I am a _god_, haven't you been _listening_!?" Even as he talked with tattered lips, the blood had begun to slow. He smiled bitterly, the deep gashes in his face sealing as if they were melting back together, reforming muscle and bone.   
_Oh shit._ Kyrie thought. It was her turn. If physical attacks wouldn't do it, then what about magic? As little practice as she had gotten, she was confident enough that she could control her Materia. At least enough to act as a distraction. She closed her eyes, feeling the energy already building because of her emotions, forming a ball deep inside that burned twice the size it had before. Her eyes flashed open with a momentary green light as she cast a fanned hand toward the bastard that had killed her parents.   
That did it. That sure as hell was the most powerful Ultima she'd cast yet. The shimmering eruption of green energy at least enticed a grunt from the man as it surged in and out of his flesh. But even as the magic dimmed, he was up again, ready to attack right afterward.   
Cloud unleashed Ice, little sharp razors of crystal erupting in every direction from Sephiroth's body. The man let out a small cry of pain that time, his body stiffening as the ice melted pink with blood on his skin. Again, however, it seemed too good to be true. Even though the magic had wounded him, it seemed also to invigorate him; he threw his hands in the air and a momentary gleam of silver enveloped him, dropping the ice to the floor in a puddle of water that steamed and dried on impact. As he put his hands back to his sides, there was a crackle of electricity.   
That was when Vincent knew he couldn't use his materia. Lightning may only heal him or, worse, add to his power. So, he mentally put the materia away for the duration of the fight and jumped from the balcony, landing gracefully in a crouch. Now or never, he pulled his gun again and fired again. He hoped maybe enough shots would weaken him. Or at least act as a distraction.   
Kyrie was not about to be outdone. Maybe magic didn't work now, but it might later. As apprehensive as part of her was to get close to the lunatic, she'd use her weapon of choice in every way she knew how. She pulled her gunblade from her side and rushed him, using an upward slash to open his stomach up to his shoulder with a tinge of Ultima burning through her fingers and a bullet in-between for good measure. She darted backward with warm blood splattered across her clothes and watched hopefully.   
She certainly hadn't expected what came next. Instead of seeing the contents of his gut on the floor, she saw a flash of blue take her vision as a vivid pain thundered through every part of her body. It was heat and electricity, but it was also a frosty cold that surpassed any bitter winters she'd ever endured. Immediately she was out of breath, weakened, and on unsteady legs. It lasted just a second, but she had been partially drained of her very life force. Every muscle in her body tinged with the sharp pains of circulation loss. She'd have dropped her gunblade for it's weight had she not been holding onto it for dear life. Seeing that Sephiroth looked perfectly unharmed when her vision returned didn't really help matters.   
Cloud cringed as he watched the occurrence, helpless to stop it. At least he could give her a little boost, though. He turned to her and commanded Restore, thinking it most important his team be healthy enough to continue the battle.   
It was at that point Rodger leapt from the catwalk, landing with a less than graceful stance. But at least he'd made it. Without breaking anything. There was no way he could rewire the computer in a circumstance like this. He'd seen too much not to come and help all he could. With Vincent's unspoken signal, the two fired.   
Kyrie was too pissed to let the effect of the energy drain last. Thanks to Cloud restoring her energy partially, she rushed Sephiroth again, letting Ultima _rip_ into him. Cloud caught on and sliced opposite and across Sephiroth's body from where she had, Vincent and Rodger taking aim and firing as soon as they were out of the way.   
Sephiroth's body didn't even resemble Sephiroth anymore. They were sure he was going to fall any moment; but Vincent was not going to take chances. He reloaded and fired twice more.   
A cry; they'd all heard it come from Sephiroth. A cry of disdain, certainly, but also one of pain and great loss. Instead of falling, however, there was a sudden beam of silvery black light almost, like a thin fog column. By the time they'd gotten their thoughts together, it was gone. So was Sephiroth's body entirely.   
"Shit." Cloud commented in a tired gasp. "We lost him again."   
Kyrie sighed quietly, placing her gunblade back on her hip, blood and all. The empty silence of the room was actually quite welcome. But it was lonely. Maybe that's a little of what she was feeling. Not necessarily loneliness, but loss. She'd endured a great one of both parents. She didn't even move from where she was standing, just... being there for a moment. They all needed that stillness, just for a little while.   
But then, the stillness wasn't quite... stillness. There was a distant rustling, like... like fabric, really that--   
It was so quick and so unexpected. Such an utter shock to watch that there was no reaction. Not until it was too late. Sephiroth had descended, and the scene was a little too familiar for some.   
"No!" she heard Cloud's terrified cry before anything else. It somehow seemed louder than any of the other things she'd heard in her life. Louder than the gunshots, louder than the music, louder than any memory. It had power in it, that scream. Power and meaning. And she had no idea why she felt she needed to take it personally.   
Until she looked down and shivered. She'd never seen a blade through her body before, obviously. Right through her heart. Right through _her_. And she was still conscious enough to know it. To understand the implications. To _feel_ it. Masamune; though she did not know what to name it. Not that it mattered in the least. It was _inside_ her. It had gone _through_ her. Sephiroth had gotten his chance to fuck her after all.   
"Do you have any idea how long I've waited to do that again?" the madman laughed behind her, twisting the blade.   
Instead of a scream as Kyrie had anticipated, a gurgling sound came from her mouth. The pain was so intense it almost ceased to be pain at all. Oh, it was far from pleasure, but it was too strong for pain. It went beyond her physical body, straight past her mind.   
Laughing still, Sephiroth shoved her off of his precious sword with a sharp kick from the heel of his boot, watching her body drain of life. He grinned at Cloud and Vincent, standing there stunned. "Now it's time to finish this. For good."   
"Not again." Cloud had meant to shout it. But he hadn't the energy, nor the will; he was saving all of that. Only a whisper, only a breath, and he dashed forward again--this time meeting a ball of energy that sent him all the way against the wall.   
Rodger was _shaking_ with rage. He just fired. Again and again. Reloaded blindly, and fired. Soon he, too, was sent against the wall.   
Vincent merely stood there, unmoving, silent. And then it happened; he'd never wanted it to occur again. The painful _ripping_ of his own flesh from the inside out... he screamed, but it didn't matter. Chaos didn't stop. It was still a part of him, and it would prove to be a powerful force for him now. Part of him _did_ want the beast out, for vengeance. And that it why it emerged, slashing for blood.   
And blood of a god it got. Claws tore through Sephiroth's chest, ripped at his biceps, made ribbons of his flesh and what little was left of his clothes; but now it was not enough. Too strong, the man was just too strong even for Chaos. The beast was thrown harshly against the wall beside pain stricken and dazed comrades.   
Sephiroth raised his arms in victory, laughing. _Laughing_, really and truly rejoicing. His day had _come_! It was won and final! He then raised a single palm to concoct an energy ball as Kyrie had done to finish them. Even as they watched, even as they tried to get back up again and Vincent's body slowly reformed, he would annihilate them forever. The earth was _his_, and Mother's...   
And then a very odd thing happened. It was really too quick to see exactly what was going on, but the result was clear enough. Sephiroth's victorious smile wavered a little. Then there was the sharp crack of a firearm, perhaps, deafening them all. The smile changed entirely into surprise as his vibrant green eyes widened and seemed to roll backward and to the side just a little too much... blood gushed from his neck, and soon the eyes were altogether gone. Come to think of it, so was his head in general.   


Her gunblade clattered heavily to the floor, her arm unable to hold it any longer. That was all she had left in her to raise the damn thing, let alone the momentum to behead the bastard and pull the trigger. Blood gushed steadily from her chest, but she was still alive. There was no doubt, now. She had certainly somehow survived Masamune, but she was pretty certain it wouldn't last long, the way things were going. She stared back at absolutely shocked eyes before she lost her footing and collapsed near Sephiorth's head.   
But the head was not lifeless, as she had hoped it would be. The body was splayed, bleeding, just feet away from her. But the head--those fucking _eyes_--was still very much alive. The facial muscles shuddered and convulsed like dying machinery even as the blood drained from the gored neck. Jenova was still alive in him.   
The display of "life" was more than enough to empty the contents of Kyrie's stomach; had she not been previously impaled. But far worse was a momentary glance at the body. As Cloud slowly approached (just as disturbed and surprised as she was, no doubt), the body's extremities twitched. It was barely noticeable, but it was enough. It wasn't just alive, he saw, but it was trying to reform itself. The veins and arteries had already begun to... _change_. Instead of pouring streams of blood, they were _stretching out_ like little tentacles of an ocean plant, creeping unnaturally toward the head that had been detached.   
Kyrie had a glimpse of the same gut churning behavior from the head itself as the eyes focussed unconscious hatred toward her. But she didn't have the strength to raise her head. She was passing out from the loss of blood, and she really wasn't sure she'd be coming back.   
Out of absolute revoltion as much as out of instinct, Cloud just kicked the damn head across the room. It obviously wasn't a long term solution, but it would do for now. As long as they could keep the head away from the body, they had some time to come up with a solution. Or so they hoped. It seemed a worthwhile plan at the time.   
Rodger walked on wobbling legs toward his collapsed girlfriend, making certain to close his eyes as he passed the writhing corpse. This was all just too much. Absolutely too much to take in. He just wanted Kyrie to wake up and get the hell out of here.   
Vincent followed close behind. Even his normally stoic face was a little overcome with disgust. This _wasn't quite right_, obviously. The tendrils still jerking from Sephiroth's bloody neck seemed to reach out for his foot, and he took an uncharacteristic leap backward with his hand over his chest.   
Rodger more or less dropped to the floor, just letting his legs go under him. It was too hard to stand. He wrapped his arms around a still breathing Kyrie and laid her head across his lap, wiping a stream of blood from her lips. He cringed when he realized it weren't her lips that were bleeding; the blood was leaking out from within. There was severe damage in there, as if he needed assurance.   
Shocking all of them, Kyrie took a deep and quivering breath, then opened her eyes. They were glazed with pain and fear, but they were still _there_, still intelligent. She swallowed the blood back down, feeling the hole through her with every passing second. It was... unsettling.   
Rodger soundlessly cradled her shaking body, trying hard not to show the hovering emotions he thought would tear him apart. Fear, love, hope, happiness, despair, ferocious worry...   
"How the hell are you still alive?" Cloud breathed, slowly lowering himself to the ground next to her. He was afraid if he went any faster he very well might give into his mind's demands and faint.   
A very weak grin appeared on her face as she panted from a wave of severe pain. Her voice was thick of death, but it seemed that she denied it. It almost appeared that her willpower was enough to keep her suspended there. "I'm... a l-Leonhart."   
The completely blank expression on Cloud's face was enough to have made her laugh. Could she have done so, of course. The situation kind of prevented that. Instead, she raised a shaky hand to lay gently on Rodger's shoulder. He closed his eyes; it was everything he could do to hold the emotions back. She glanced up into Vincent's wide eyes and wondered to herself how long it would be before she finally kicked it.   
Cloud reached for her wound, but his hand stopped before it made contact. Maybe he didn't want to know how bad it was. Maybe none of them did. But then, she was still alive, wasn't she? Maybe it wasn't... so bad. With a breath to summon his courage, he unceremoniously tugged at the laces and pulled the front of her shirt open just a bit to judge the damage. What he saw caused his face to pale. "Vincent..."   
The already quite pale man swallowed and stepped a little closer, looking. He also seemed somewhat astounded. "How..?"   
Cloud shook his head and continued to stare. They'd all seen Masamune go straight through her. And Sephiroth had most certainly twisted it. Kyrie could probably attest to it better than the rest of them. But what he saw there was a wound that certainly had not gone all the way through. The two men stared in awe and confusion as the hole in her chest ceased to look like raw meat, and more like a flesh wound that would leave little more than a scar.   
It reminded Cloud of moments before. It was very similar to... "Jenova?" he whispered.   
Kyrie's eyes flashed as a crackpot theory came to mind. While it was still hard to talk, and she felt like she were drowning in her own internal fluids, the pain was becoming easier to bear. Even her breathing seemed less strained. "Sephiroth... would have Jenova cells... in his blood... right?"   
Cloud gave Vincent quite a hard, almost accusing look before turning back to consider the idea. "You... didn't..?"   
Kyrie cringed with another vibrant flurry of pain before answering. "Well... I bit him... twice." The look she saw passed between Cloud and Vincent was almost worth a million more brutal stabbings.   
Rodger didn't give a fuck what was going on, not at that moment. "Just tell me it's going to be alright."   
"I think she'll make a full recovery." Cloud agreed. "But... here." From his palm emerged the Restore materia. "If you hold this, it will help the pain and healing."   
Kyrie was only glad for _anything_ that would help her out. She delicately reached for it, but this time felt almost no pain at all as it merged into her. Of course, on later thought, maybe it was simply overcome by all of the other shit going on. Indeed, three Materia meant three distinctive pulses, though Restore was like a cool breeze where the others were a warm summer day. Maybe it was simply because she'd have to be "feeding" off of it, in a sense, until she was completely healed.   
"Alright..." already her breath was easier, though it still hurt to expand her chest. "I've got to... contact Laguna."   
"I'll do it for you." Rodger volunteered.   
Kyrie shook her head lightly. "You'll need a code. And it's... way too long for me..."   
Rodger nodded, understanding. He could see the difficult enough time she had speaking. Trying to recite a huge security code was a little much at this point. "Okay. But I'll carry you."   
"I'm too heavy... for you, boy." She tried joking. The very feel of the Restore materia in her body was making things a little easier. It still felt _weird_--everything felt weird at this point--but more bearable. Even when Rodger scooped her up into his arms, there wasn't half as much pain as she had expected. It didn't feel like a trip to a theme park or anything, but...   
"And we should..?" Cloud quested.   
"Watch the head." Kyrie answered coldly.   
That seemed a good enough answer. Rodger carried her as delicately as he could to the closest lift and spun Kyrie around to hit the button. At least she could do that without feeling like an invalid. Once they were in the main control area, he put her down gently to lean against the communications panel. "Can you stand?"   
"Yeah." She assured, sounding the slightest bit out of breath already. "I'll be fine."   
Rodger nodded and continued to fiddle with the wires for a moment more. Then he flipped a couple of switches beside her. The light hum of a computer sounded while all of the switches lit up, the communication screen slowly going from black to blue. A few seconds later, the screen flashed back to black with a single word in white flashing: **LOCATION**.   
The boy was good, there was no doubt about it. With a knowing tap of the grey panel board below the screen, Kyrie initiated the keyboard to emerge from below. _Good, it's a newer model._ They'd have had problems if that hadn't have worked. She was only familiar with so much in the way of technology. "**Esthar PresEst 1573681-13k**", she typed.   
A lag. Not a long one, but enough to make her heart skip a beat. For just a moment there, she'd thought Sephiroth had destroyed the entire communications network of the system. It certainly wouldn't have surprised her. Apparently, however, as the screen read **CONNECTING**, he simply hadn't had the foresight. He'd been sure he could take them.   
That thought was not a pleasant one right now. Luckily she concentrated on the authentication screen. And here came the long line of numbers and letters.   
Rodger watched her fingers move away, seeing dozens of coded stars appear in the password location. It was _amazing_ that a family member needed that much for electronic face-to-face communication with the president of Esthar, but if any "commoner" wanted to actually talk to him face-to-face, all you had to do was hang out around the city.   
Two beeps. Then the screen read, **DIRECT CONNECTION**. Silence and a black screen. No doubt Laguna was in the middle of saying something to someone in his office, interrupted by a call. He'd have to promise to finish the conversation, as he always did, while whoever he was talking to was thanking their lucky stars for an interruption from the never-ending banter. At least that thought put a small smile on her face.   
Another beep, then the screen flashed. Instantly there was a live picture of her grandfather, looking absolutely puzzled. No doubt he'd seen the location from which she was communicating. He sounded as worried as he looked. "Kyrie?"   
"Hey, Laguna." She panted.   
An absolutely terrified look masked his features. "W-what's going on?"   
"The seal..." she tried to breathe, hold herself up as straight as her body would allow her, and concentrate on the words at the same time; a difficult task given the circumstances. "The seal for Adel. We need another. Two, actually."   
Blankness became painfully apparent on his face. It was clear that she was injured, of course. More so was the fact that whatever had occurred had been _big_. And, apparently, needed to be contained _now_. Instead of asking questions, he just nodded. "Okay. I'll get there as soon as I can."   
"As soon as possible." She added, flinching as her stomach felt like it was working knots in itself. "I don't think we can hold up long."   
Laguna nodded and broke communication. Thank heavens he knew an important situation when he saw one.   
Kyrie sighed and turned, leaning her back against the terminal. Healing though she was, she suspected the damage was probably going to take quite some time to heal all the way. He'd gone through a number of organs and shredded the hell out of them, after all.   
But everything was going to be alright. Laguna could take charge when he needed to. And he had complete access to the Ragnarok. She'd seen that sucker take off several times, and it was _fast_. The only thing that may take the time were those seals. But she suspected that it was quite possible he had more around. She had the sneaking suspicion he was more ready for odd matters such as this than most people would ever imagine. He'd learned his lesson.   
She looked up at Rodger, noting a worried look on his face, too. It was... kinda cute. She smiled softly at that thought. Sure she still hurt, but she'd get better. And when she did, oh boy.   
"I thought I was going to lose you." He whispered.   
"Can't get rid of me that easily." She joked with a light cough. Seeing a look that was in equal parts elation and fear, she raised a hand and gestured him to her. Painful though it was, she wrapped her arms around him and brought him closer. The pain didn't matter. _This_, mattered.   
He held onto her though she were the only thing keeping the universe together. So many times he could have lost her forever... but he tried not to think about that. He tried, instead, to picture what life would be like back at Trabia Garden. How much trouble were they going to be in for abandoning the place? Sure it was for a good cause, in the end, but he doubted the Headmaster would see it that way...   
Eh, it didn't matter. One still moment was all they needed for now. One moment, one instant in time where they had this security in one another would last them until all of this shit blew over. Then they could talk about it, worry about it. Until then, they had a task to accomplish. So, he kissed her and scooped her back into his arms, bringing her back down to ground level.   
But the look that was being exchanged between Cloud and Vincent caused a little... hesitancy. They'd been talking, obviously. And there was something... uncertain about something one of them had said. It was unnerving.   
Cloud noticed their curious looks and decided to just be forward about it. "If we leave him on this planet, in piece or not, there's a good chance he could absorb more of Jenova's powers over time. Or worse, that they could somehow find one another."   
Alright, well, that didn't sound so far-fetched. He knew very well they had to throw Adel into space, so it wasn't a big deal to do the same with yet another psycho. They still prodded him with their gazes, both knowing he wasn't practicing full disclosure at this point.   
"I..." Cloud spoke up, albeit softly. "I want to be sealed with him."   
Kyrie looked at him like a madman for a few seconds. "Cloud... you can't..."   
He hushed her with a confident smile. "Look... it's not safe with him around. In two pieces or a million. If I'm going to live as long as he is, anyway... may as well be doing something useful with that time."   
She grunted quietly. It was the only word her mind could form at that moment. She saw, clearly, what he was getting at. She knew he'd followed Sephiroth all over the world before. And still, even after doing so twice, that bastard wasn't really dead. But that thought plagued her. Locking Cloud up with the lunatic's body, or even the head... wouldn't he go insane as well? Wasn't that just too grotesque to manage sanity around?   
"It's just safer this way." The blonde continued to try and convince everyone.   
There was silence. A lot of stunned, reflective silence. Maybe he had a point. Maybe it was a good one. But it... sucked. Kyrie didn't want him to be outer-fucking-space all the time. Shit, they'd become friends... more or less.   
"You are certain about this?" Vincent tried quietly.   
"Yeah." Cloud was not moving on his position. Hey, it may not be... forever.   
A sudden deep, roaring vibrating overcame the moment. _Not already_... Kyrie thought as the sound registered. It sure as hell sounded like the Ragnarok just above them. She couldn't say she wasn't glad he'd gotten here so quickly, but... man, after the bombshell Cloud had just cropped, this whole moment was getting more and more surreal.   
And then there was a crash out in the hallway. Only seconds later, her grandfather literally _dashed_ in, not even bothering with the lift. He simply grasped hold of one of the ladders and slid down it, landing as surely as if he'd actually intended to do so. He came to a dead halt when he finally witnessed the carnage around him. There were some people he didn't really recognize (though he swore he'd seen Cloud somewhere), a headless body that was still _flinching_ on one side of the room with what looked like its head all the way across to the other. And then there was his granddaughter in this kid's arms, covered in drying blood and looking... not terribly healthy. Apart from those, there was no one else. And apart from Seifer's collar around her thigh--he started getting the picture. Turning gears, ticking like a clock, it was becoming clear. Squall was not here. Neither was Seifer. And they all looked worn out, tired... and grieving.   
His shoulders faltered, then dropped. He started walking toward them again, slowly. It was a cold, stunned pace as he closed the gap between them.   
Rodger very gently let Kyrie down to stand on her own. He was right behind her, just in case. He saw she was a little shaky, but he couldn't have been certain exactly why. There was a lot going on now. A lot more than just her physical strength. Even he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to stand up by himself.   
Laguna stopped in front of his granddaughter for a moment, without moving. Just looking at her. Hyne, what memories she brought to him, looking like that. "Kyrie..." he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.   
It was strange for him not to have more to say. She was sure he knew enough to understand it had been tragic, though. It felt good to be held by her grandfather, even under the circumstances. Maybe the Squall part of her reveled in being able to accept the touch. Maybe she was just insane with all of the shit that had just happened to her. It didn't matter. He was gentle enough not to squeeze any "damaged parts", so... it just felt nice.   
"The seals are back at the airstation." He whispered roughly. "They're ready."   
She knew what he meant; ready to be blasted into space. Again she thought of Cloud going with them, and what an awful feeling that brought on.   
As if on cue, a dozen officers began climbing down the ladder, sent to have "contained the problem". They weren't quite ready for the scene before them.   
"The head and body." Kyrie stated to the startled, questioning eyes of the young soldiers. "Keep them separated. And _contained_."   


Things were utterly silent on the Ragnarok. Cloud had made a big deal moments before about how _awesome_ he thought the ship itself was. But now that that conversation was over... well, there wasn't much left to talk about. Not at that moment, in that place. Too much. Just too much. It would have to wait. Even the normally talkative, good natured Laguna was acting fidgety and abnormally quiet. All he knew of was the death, the cost. It's all he needed to know until the danger had passed.   
Landing at Esthar Airstation, not a word was uttered until they made it to what had come to be known as the Shuttle Room. From there was where all space operations were launched or landed. Down at the very end of the building was where the seals waited.   
And it was at the point that they were headed in that direction that Cloud started getting a bit nervous. The thought of just... floating there... for no one knew how long... What would he do? Count stars? Would he even see the stars?   
By that point, Kyrie was actually fine to walk by herself. She could still feel some... _tears_ internally, but they hadn't been nearly as bad as they were before. She could walk and keep up without having to pant or rest, and that's what mattered.   
Laguna never looked back. He simply led them through the maze-like halls of the building beyond the Shuttle Room, determined to see this obvious danger off. Question later. Action now.   
At long last, they came to the door. A huge, well guarded, locked iron door. Laguna walked past and through without a second thought, but the rest of them hesitated. They weren't so quick to get rid of Cloud. And, well, neither was he quick to step on in and say good-bye.   
"What?" Laguna asked quietly.   
Cloud swallowed, looking to his comrades for a moment. "I, uh... I'd like to be sealed along, there... with the head, preferably."   
The president's eyes went wide. "Sealed with--?" but then he stopped himself. Granted that it was not a thrilling proposition even for him, who didn't even know the guy. This was just... getting weirder and weirder. All so very odd and unusual, and completely contrary to all common sense. But he'd experienced this from other people before. Act fast or be unable to act at all. He looked squarely at Kyrie to read her reaction. From that, he nodded and continued without saying another word.   
Coming into the room, they saw Sephiroth's body was already in the process of being sealed; none of the soldiers looked happy about this task. In fact, there was one in the far corner who was obviously losing his breakfast. Another, who was working on the locking mechanism, simply looked pale and slightly unstable.   
_Yeah, just imagine if that thing got stronger..._ Kyrie tried to suppress the thought. She still didn't like the idea of Cloud getting locked up with a _head_ of all things. It was an unpleasant thought.   
"We've got complete privacy and clearance for the next ten minutes." Laguna announced calmly. "But we won't after that. I'm sorry, but... this will have to be quick." He then graciously walked away.   
The group stood there for a few seconds. This was all going too fast, too soon, too much... but Cloud looked sure of himself. Nervous, granted. A little pale, yes. But... certain. Complete in his decision.   
So, Kyrie decided to give him a little entertainment. She reached into her back pocket and produced a gift, pressing it into his palm immediately. "You _will_ take this." She indicated.   
Cloud blinked. Yes, he supposed he would. He looked at the small palm computer she'd given him.   
"It's a fully self contained solar powered communication device linked up to the world's electronic library." She announced quietly, taking a moment to catch her breath after all that. "You know, just in case. And so you won't go loony on us." Certainly it would finally work with _completely_ direct sunlight... right? She could get another one any time. Maybe one that even _worked_.   
"Well... thanks." He accepted with sincerity.   
"And thanks for taking care of her." Rodger said honestly, softly poking his girlfriend playfully in the shoulder.   
Cloud looked almost honored. "Glad to be of service." He looked to Vincent, who was standing completely still and a little off to the side. He looked as if he simply didn't know what to say at all.   
You never forget those you fight with. There is a special bond shared with those you battle alongside, that is not quite love and not quite companionship, but is just as strong as both. Kyrie regarded the still moment with almost passive sorrow; she really didn't want to see him go, no matter the circumstances. But his decision was clearly made. He had a task that he felt he really needed to accomplish.   
Cloud pulled away from his own thoughts for a moment, as if considering something entirely different. He then looked Kyrie square in the eye. "You ought to have the Buster Sword."   
That was a bit surprising. "You need it more than I do."   
That cocky grin returned. "I've got a knife. I think I'll be alright. Besides, there won't be room for my big-ass sword."   
Kyrie grinned back at him widely, trying not to crack a crude joke. "Only if you really, really insist."   
Cloud nodded, unbuckling the scabbard from around his waist and shoulders. "It's heavy." He warned.   
"I'll bet." Kyrie joked. Rodger accepted the gift for her, grunting softly in surprise at just how heavy it really was.   
"I think you earned Masamune, too." The blonde said quietly.   
"Masamune?" the word itself sounded almost as evil to her as it did pleasantly exotic.   
Cloud just nodded his head toward that giant sword that the soldiers had also picked up to bring with them. It was laying on an equipment table right beside Kyrie's gunblade, and together they looked like a force of Chaos itself.   
She swallowed that thought down. She couldn't really help but agree, in a sense. It had very nearly killed her, but she'd survived it. And it was simply too damn big for Cloud to take with him. Besides, wouldn't _that_ look glorious on her dorm wall?   
And now for the old friends. Cloud leaned in and whispered something that only Vincent could hear. Whatever it was he said, it had surprised the pale man. The blonde pulled back with a wide smile on his face and left whatever it was he had whispered alone.   
"Rodger." Cloud called his attention. He raised his last Materia from his palm and held it in front of his eyes, regarding it. It had been a very long time since he'd been without them in constant contact. But this had to be done. It was a just in case sort of thing. Seeing the absolutely unsure look across the boy's face, he gently suggested, "Just play with it for a while."   
Well, that didn't help any. But, it was rude to refuse a gift from someone who may be saying good-bye forever. He hesitantly extended his own palm and felt that tingling surge he'd felt with Fire, only this was by far a... cooler feeling. The Ice materia was actually a bit of a comfort to match his Fire.   
Cloud took a deep breath, seeing there were a couple of soldiers moving with a rolling table in between them. Atop it was the head, still squirming, and they did not look at all happy to be handling this thing. There was no use and no reason to draw this out. It would just be harder to leave. And this was hard enough, really. He opened his mouth to say something, anything... but closed it again. Nah, no use. No need. He just smiled and waved, then turned to step into the other seal.   
At least that one had a window. A nice tinted window so he could see out without getting his retinas completely destroyed. At least thankfully they left that godawful frightening head in a box so he wouldn't have to stare at it all the time. And so his friends watched the process as it went all too quickly, the sealing, the setting up, and having to wave their good-byes so they could clear the room and see the whole process on a big screen in the Shuttle Room.   
Only... well, they elected not to. That would have been too much for Kyrie, herself. Rodger just... well, it was hard enough to fathom all of this, let alone seeing this stuff shot into space--he was a little afraid he'd faint or something. As for Vincent... he just followed them. Silently looking at the floor, he walked a few paces after them. They heard the roar of the engines and the cries of success which always came out of the Shuttle Room, and that's all they needed to know. 


	14. Chapter 14

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2002, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife are copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you know. Enough said. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.   
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. _What have I done?!_ Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out.   
  
  
  


The Sins of Two Fathers   
Chapter 14   
by Orin Drake 

She smiled in spite of it all. In spite of everything. Her parents were dead, yes. But so was the guilt, in a way. It wasn't their fault, and it hadn't been taken to the grave. It just seemed like it had been... freed. She swallowed the sobs that threatened to interrupt her moment of calm as she laid the flowers on their graves. White lilies for Seifer and white roses for Squall. Why, she never really questioned. That's just... how it was.   
Instead of her own loss, she thought of Laguna's as she kneeled just for a moment in the tall grass. His wife, and now his son. Gone. He didn't have much of a chance to know him. But she'd tell him whatever he needed to know. It wasn't the same, but it would do. She could ponder her own losses another day. A little blind faith in the workings of the universe can be a positive thing from time to time.   
She stood up and looked over the hill. She could just hear the beginnings of bagpipes. The others would be here in a matter of minutes, so it was time for her to get going. Her pace was quick enough to stay far ahead of them, but slow enough so that she wouldn't be _that_ far ahead. Just a good distance so she could watch without being seen.   
She could not attend the funeral service. She would not. She'd made her peace, and there was no reason to re-visit that. Everyone understood. Or at least said they did. She kind of felt bad about not being there with Laguna of all people, but he had Ellone. Quistis liked to take bad news all by herself, so she was fine. Everyone else had something else to worry about, she rather liked to think. But she did stand on the crest of the far hill overlooking the graveyard, watching for a moment as the people gathered. Everyone was crying. _Everyone_. She wouldn't have been able to take that.   
She glanced over her shoulder as she heard a twig snap. "I thought you said you'd wait back at the station." She'd promised him a little tour of the area.   
Vincent nodded slowly. "I got tired of waiting."   
There was nearly something encouraging about that. Maybe not the words themselves, but how he said it. She wasn't sure. With one last glance over the crowd in the graveyard, she began to walk alongside him back to Esthar Station. "What will you do, Vincent?" she inquired softly.   
He stopped and looked at her for a moment, pondering. "I suppose I will find out about the world before anything else. Then... we shall see." As an afterthought, he added, "As long as the nightmares don't come."   
She nodded softly and looked away. She understood. After so long being locked away, the world was different. Much had changed, and anyone and everyone he'd ever known was officially long gone now. He had his own demons to make peace with, anyway.   
"And what will you do, Kyrie?" he returned, genuinely curious.   
She looked into the mirror of red eyes, startled for a moment, his question catching her off guard. "I don't really know yet." She admitted. "Make peace with old enemies, maybe."   
"They aren't your enemies to make peace with." He reminded her without needing to be told of the situation.   
"No, they aren't." She admitted. "But I won't feel right until I try." For a moment, she just wanted to let the subject drop. But then she thought of the future, and was certain that it wouldn't let her forget. "I kind of wish you'd decide to stay around."   
He stared blankly. "And why is that?"   
"Selfish reasons." She admitted quietly. "One day I had two fathers... and the next day I had none." How to put that... she never was good with the emotional crap. "But, damn you. You were there. I felt it."   
His terse laugh felt foreign even in his own ears. "Maybe there is more to this than anyone knows, yet."   
She sighed, feeling a little too greedy. As if her own loss would cause her to hold onto anything that eased the situation. "It's your life, Vincent. Your freedom. Just... let me know what you decide."   
He caught her wrist very gently in his clawed hand before she had the chance to turn away from him. "Maybe you've given me a purpose. For a little while, anyway."   
Unknown to her, Cloud's words had kept Vincent from sneaking away. _"Take care of her, personally. For me."_ But having her confirm that she didn't mind him hanging around had just driven it home.   


A strange girl wandered into Balamb just before sunset. She looked pretty military and quite odd, like a refugee from a distant war somehow. People glanced over as her boots lightly crunched against the stones of the road, but looked away when they saw how she was dressed. Black leather pants, blood red shirt, and a black leather jacket graced her frame in form fitting splendor; but on the back of her jacket was a bloodcross as vibrant red as her eyes. Around her neck was the symbol of their saint; Griever. On one thigh, a strange metal band gleamed with every step; on the other was strapped her miraculous and very rare weapon of choice, Eleison.   
The girl made no apologies to anyone for being there. She just walked on without looking at anyone or anything in particular. She knew exactly where she was going. Two doors down on the public street, she stopped. The people looked away and scattered, and she waited until all was silent.   
She knocked on the door. No response. She waited for several minutes, then knocked again, harder. She swore she heard footsteps moving around inside, but she wasn't sure. Once more she pounded her fist against the door, over and over in a steady rock and roll rhythm.   
At long last, she heard the inside latch click. She took a deep breath, and waited. There was absolutely no idea what to expect here.   
Slowly, the door creaked open. She could see one blue eye, a lock of gold hair, and the smallest indication of a facial tattoo. "What do you want?" an unexpectedly bitter voice demanded.   
Good question. Why was she here in the first place? "Zell Dincht?" She knew it was him, but this was for conversation.   
The man paused, glaring at her. Her pendant, the collar, her coat, her weapon. "Yeah."   
"I bet you know who I am." She immediately assumed.   
"Yeah." He answered again. "So what do you want?"   
She stared at the hateful depths of that single eye for only a moment, wondering who started that cycle of betrayal first. "I just wanted to see you. That's all." It was the truth. It wasn't fancy or interesting, but it was the truth.   
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he stepped back and opened the door all the way. He looked just like the old pictures. Different clothes of course; he was in torn jeans and a long sleeved white t-shirt with a couple of old oil stains. He'd gained a little weight, and his face had aged. But it was Zell, no doubt at all.   
What more could she say or do? She'd gotten what she'd come for. It seemed like he was no better off than any of the rest of their old group. Not that it mattered. She sighed, turned, and started to walk out of town.   
"Hey!" he shouted behind her, grabbing both shoulders and turning her around.   
She didn't really resist. She didn't want to. She was truly interested in what he had to say, be it terrible or otherwise. "What?"   
Zell looked very uneasy. Like he'd seen a ghost. In essence, he had. She sure felt like one. "What happened to them?"   
"They're dead." She said simply.   
She was certain nothing could have surprised her more than what took place at that moment. She thought he'd just let her go, just let her walk on her way back to Rodger and home. But instead, he wrapped his arms around her and started sobbing. It made her very uncomfortable to say the least. Not that she could blame him for cutting connections, she supposed. In his mind, both Seifer and Squall had betrayed him, as well as Quistis. When you couldn't deal, you cut yourself off. That's how it was. This embrace, though... it didn't feel right. It was weighted with guilt and hatred that seemed to have no direction other than outward. Just outward. 

* * *

Want more? Check out the sequel: Retribution Nor Redemption. 


	15. Author's Notes

Author's Notes at the End of   
_The Sins of Two Fathers_   
by Orin Drake 

Well, what a ride. This is the first long story that I have ever finished. Wow. Just... wow. It feels good. And not just because I'm on my third cup of coffee with celebratory ice cream looming on the horizon. I'm just psyched all to hell so you must excuse the erratic behavior of these ending notes. It's about 2:40 on a Friday afternoon, sunny and warm, on July 12, 2002. (Later read over and edited on the same day the whole story edit was complete, July 16.)   
You may or may not know "kyrie eleison" translates into "lord have mercy". Interesting, no? And yes, I will admit it. I like the song of the same name. And I own a Mr. Mister CD, not just a burned downloaded MP3 one. So sue me.   
No, I wasn't talking to you, Squaresoft!!!   
Ahem. Allow me to thank the lovely creatures that made this fiction work, from beginning to end. There are my muses, of course; Squall, Seifer, Link (Legend of Zelda), Vincent, Cloud (against my will), Sephiroth (well duh), Shadow (original character lovely), and Nightshade (my beloved Fender Stratocaster and Bitch Goddess Mistress). I think Kyrie is attempting to enter the Circle of Muses, so... she's not going anywhere.   
If you're looking to someone to blame for the major plot... well, blame me. But if you're looking for my inspiration for it, blame FireCeremony. All it took were her words during a single conversation, "Sephiroth and Squall had similar stances at the end of fights". That's it. That was everything. And _wham!_ I took off to write a very interesting squickfic having to do with Squall's and Sephiroth's "connection".   
As you can see, it quickly changed. Instead of being a pawn in a disturbing and very blatant short fan fiction piece, Kyrie gained her own voice almost immediately. Strangely, the story became entirely about her. *grin* But... I'm okay with that. In fact, I am very proud of, and very happy with, this story. That's unusual for me. I guess it means it must be "quality", right? It was fun. It was really a blast to write, all the way through. I didn't even mind editing.   
Obviously, I have to thank the glory of the fans of this work. I mean, I got some really supportive, kind and gentle comments. (Andariel, you damn well better be happy, girl. *grin*) And everyone who reads this and likes it, thank you! I'm glad you like it! I'm still in shock that I have "fans" at all at this point.   
All I can promise at this point in time, is that this particular arc is over. But, um... the characters are not gone from my head at all. And you know what that means. I'm taking a little break from this universe (I've got dozens more of my own, y'know, hint hint *grin*), but I can promise another visit in the future. Many unanswered questions to play with. The story is already rolling around. And man is it going to be interesting. 


End file.
